I'll Tell the World

I'll tell the world I'd like to stay 
The briefest while in U.S.A. 
Whose statesmen spill a bibful when 
They mention that their strong-arm men -
Their gangsters, gunmen, atavars, 
Who knock about in armoured cars 
With Thompson sub-guns in their hands, 
Are almost as the countless sands. 

If it should be my fate to stay 
A year or two in U.S.A. 
I think I'd choose to be a yeg - 
Or, in plain English, one tough egg; 
And trim the suckers who elect 
To treat the Law with due respect, 
And beat the rap, so I might land 
The iron men - say, fifty grand.

But if, perchance, I should be shot 
By guys who put me on the spot, 
After they took me for a ride
Thro' some salubrious countryside, 
I do not think I'd grieve, because, 
Having once broken all their laws, 
A hero's task I should have done 
As "Public Enemy" A.1. 

In England men like Nelson, Drake, 
Public approval used to wake; 
Napo'eon, Bismarck - men like these - 
Roused, in punk Europe, ecstasies. 
Aw, nerts! Them bozos only make 
Fit food for racketeering's sake, 
While gathering gunmen scan the sky 
For heroes who must pay or die.