[Originally by The Violators]      Boy with no name, he was only 18   Never lughed to much   Hated the monarchy   Yes he hated the queen   Real antisocial and he acted real mean   Was he in a dream?   Dowsing her lights was in   In his dreams      Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey   Rumpa, rumpa   Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey   Rumpa, rumpa      So full of hate and full of fury   To tell you a story   You could say   He was a one man jury   Catalogue of anger posted through your door   Your door, your door, your door   A chance would come to even the score      Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey   Rumpa, rumpa   Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey   Rumpa, rumpa      Stole a gun and he stole a car   Oh boy, oh boy   With a pretty dolly he would go far   Down to london where the bright lights are   Lights are, lights are, lights are   And i said   The mission his decision      Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey   Rumpa, rumpa   Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey   Rumpa, rumpa      He took out the gun   On that fateful day   The winds blew cold, the sky was grey   He pointed the gun   And then he pulled the trigger   The message that he would now deliver      Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey   Rumpa, rumpa   Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey   Rumpa, rumpa   Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey   Rumpa, rumpa   Rumpa, rumpa, rumpa, hey, hey   Rumpa, rumpa      ("hey tom, could we do the rumpa's again?")