Take your fancy potions and your royal old wives
Tell the ale-house braves they better run for their lives
Have you seen the children with the blood on their hands?
Have you heard about the terror spreading through the land?
'Cause the god you pray to sees the sinners and saints
But he doesn't give a damn about the people he taints

See the hounds of Fleet Street in their tatters and rags
Selling false premonitions for a penny a bag
All the lords and ladies with their diamonds and pearls
Throwing stones in glass houses, not a care in the world
Take your fancy crystals and your fossilised bone
Tell the ale-house braves the devil's gauntlet is thrown

Belly full of whiskey and a pocket full of rope
No fear in dying when you've lost your only hope
The searchers round on you before your final breath
Essence of life surrenders in the face of death

Adverse repulsion seems to drive you to the grave
No hearts on fire can persuade you to be saved
Blood-sucking leeches have grown bigger in the sun
The roses on the stone tell what you have become

Take your fancy potions and your royal old wives
Tell the ale-house braves they better pray for their lives