I’ve got a terrible story
Of violence and butchery
The butchers ****** apron
Filled up many a cemetery.
Admiral Nelson flew
His flag many didn’t even
Make the body bag.
Captain cook
Natives mis took
At there terrible demise
In the Caribbean
You can still hear
There blooded cries.
The butcher apron flies
On every warship
Building an empire
For  good old queen Vic
We built our cities
On sugar cane
Through suffering
Lots of pain.
Mothers
Fathers
Sons and
Daughters
The butchers apron
Had no heart
It was all about
The slaughter.