You've seen the spastics on the bus
Who dribble down the glass
I wonder why we make them live
When nature lets them pass
(Poor bastards!)
Watching cripples on tv now my tears fall in my tea
Christians whining at my door
bringing heartache from the poor
Starving lonely blind and black broken hearted sick and fat
You know I'm not overjoyed
while the hangman's unemployed!

Poor bastard!
Retarded children should be slapped
The ugly too and the handi-capped
Sex aids benders to their knees
no such luck for amputees!
Don't reach for the razor, don't take it to heart
We had to be cruel to have a good laugh

Mother, are there any more crusts?
(Horrible, whining upper class twat
Of the year, mother - played by the rev)
No! There are no more crusts!