He was a shameless specimen of a greedy, godless man.
He sold his wares to murderers and he never gave a damn.
He had no lack of talent, but he used it not for good.
He preferred the filthy lucre and the custom of the hood.

And then, he quite surpassed himself and got a “Barrett” for the Ra.
And they shot British soldiers and then toasted him – “Hurrah!”
That deadliest of weapons, they wanted more from him
And so much did they fete his name, it made his head quite swim.

He grew arrogant and cocksure and he thought himself so mighty,
He never sussed the taxi driver came from “Dear Old Blighty.”
He settled on the back seat as the taxi drove along,
Never suspecting for a moment that the route it took was wrong.

It pulled into the side street and the driver turned around,
And the sight of his nine mille caused his fare’s black heart to pound.
‘Twas but for a moment, then the pistol spat fire twice
And an evil heart stopped beating, but it wasn’t at all nice.

For, the man who’d done his duty knew, he’d swathed himself in sin
And that, come his own fine judgement day, it would make Old Sooty grin.
The lives he’d saved, he couldn’t guess, but one thing was for sure.
With the ammunition supply dried up, the Barrett would bark no more.

And now, the war that wasn’t is done and the memories are fading fast,
But the soldier’s wound still festers, its venom he cannot outlast.
Will you pray for the bravest of soldiers? Ask your God to forgive him his sin?
Tell Old Sooty to go take a long one and wipe off his big stupid grin?
For, he got what he wanted that dark night, in the street where the Grim Reaper called.
Let the scum sink on down to the furnace and the noble ascend to the Lord.