It was dune in old Inverchtotty,
the Gestapo were out on their beat,
looking for murder and arson,
and their youngsters they'd stowed down the street,
knew two of the chief constable's agents,
had notebooks quite full of names,
forty men, three women and a dog,
for peeing up closes and lanes,
it was twelve o'clock when they found it,
lying there just like a log,
t'was a badly bashed bird body,
tyre marks scorched up its phys-hog,
they went through the usual procedure,
kicked it to make sure it was dead,
then they went through its pockets and shed out its cash,
smoked all its fags while it
bled,
then they lifted up this body,
one at its head and its feet,
carried it up to an
alleyway,
and dumped it on another man's beat,
it was four o'clock when they re-found it,
propped up in an old chip shop door,
it was naked by noon,
with a note round its neck,
not wanted on beats three or four.