Four white buttons
In the mist
Hanging in a noose
While I get dressed
Blown to bits by an IRA bomb
Weighing not too much more than half a stone
Blown to Bits
By an IRA bomb
Four white buttons
A dirty old man
Had his own ambitions
In his day
To live with the queen
And I should know
Cos I was there
Blown to Bits
By an IRA bomb
That little boy
Is no more
Feed him to the fish
For a day or more
Intestines in
A plastic bag
That's what you get
From those f**king fags
He's blown to bits
By an IRA bomb
