Born in England's pleasant green    Like a picture postcard scene    To childhood spread with fond maternal care    From the day that he was born    Proud relations came to fawn    And compliment his pretty golden hair       In boyhood sent away    To a boarding school to stay    Its crumbling proud traditions forced to bear    And his friends in this new world    Said he looks more like a girl    With those blue eyes and pretty golden hair       Fades secluded youth    Into manhood's search for truth    His mother's eyes now wet had turned to stare    For he said I must be bound    This day for London town    For I believe my fortune's waiting there       So like an eager cutting knife    He plunged in a new life    Oh never known beforehand anywhere    And the thought that he might trip    In his ignorance and slip    Never struck beneath his pretty golden hair       Ah the days soon grew thin    And boredom fast set in    His job was thrown away without a care    For a man who softly said    You'll earn twice as much instead    With those blue eyes and pretty golden hair       Well London town possessed    Of many a tempter's nest    And thus he fell with scarce another care    As so easily he slipped    Into prostitution's grip    Foundationed by his pretty golden hair       Ah but the years quickly flew    And his mind slowly grew    From early freedom into deep despair    As the money ceased to roll    A tired and lonely soul    Poured curses on his pretty golden hair       Ah the years stole their time    Now the living's hard to find    And early friends have vanished in the air    And the gay parties's ease    Changed to public lavatories    Have turned to grey his pretty golden hair       Oh his life was only used    And his body just abused    By those who never think and never care    But though his file said suicide    No, that wasn't why he died    It was murder by his pretty golden hair