Cramp and paralyse
them and those
who worship Babylon.
On a solid front line
faced with adversity
he's the only one.
And all the skinheads skank
and try to look so cool
but only rude boys know
how to break out loose.
And the sound system booms
in the middle of the night
and the city rocker crew
are spoiling for a fight.
But the usual crowd
are underneath the lights
dancing to the groove
where it feels just right.
And the skins are looking daggers
and the girls are looking nice
and the rude boys in the corner
are cool like coconut ice.
The coda of the music
is never really realised
because the cat at the desk
keeps the rhythm alive.
The rockabilly boys
want some electrification
they want to galvanise
the youth of the nation.
And the fat man in the back room
says it's completely justified
he's counting out the takings
with cigar smoke in his eyes.
And the rude boy doesn't knock
before coming through the door
he's seen this kind of thing
done many times before.
Him say, " gimme all ya money
I'm the revolution liberator,
this here gun in my hand
is a tribulation instigator !".
And the dancers dance on
blissfully oblivious
completely unaware
of the act insidious.
And the fat man piss himself
and him fidget in him chair
and gun smoke mix it
with cigar smoke in the air.
And the skinheads mooch
to a heavy skanking sound
nobody was a witness
to what just went down.
And the rude boy exits
through the back door route
with a hot gun in him pocket
and a bag of easy loot.
And the fat man's blood
is a spilling on the floor
and Babylon siren arrive
like a cheap encore.
And everybody groan
when the house lights come up
on another dance hall act
in a late night club.
And the rude boy listens
on Babylon channel radio
because nobody knows
what the rude boy knows.