See the priest in gleaming nappies   Gurgling and burping child at play   Signing warrents, blessing firing squads   are the pleasures of this baby's day      In a street where broken buildings fall   on burning people ten feet tall   on stockinged knees, not all, not all   Just those who fight in bonfire light   In spite of all the crowds who call   Their hero, a goldfish jockey   Their hero remains Mr. Baby      Mr. Baby spills it by the ton   He wraps his mouth around his gun   He says, "Scared? You're not the only one."      Did they raise their fists to greet you all   when they saw the colour of your skin?   Did they laugh and say "go home"   when you told them of the trouble you were in?   You know they did   (God is an arms dealer.)      Your complaint is my mandate   and your shoulders are my ladder (straight)   What they cannot defuse they must excuse   and what they must allow they soon will bow to   and they will kneel   They will kneel to Mr. Baby   Oh, you really slay me   Mr. Baby in the burning bushfire   Basement by the crater brook   Reads from his ancient hate-book      Your own, your own Mr. Baby   Baby, baby, baby, don't treat me mean now   Don't bang your head...