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12 Rounds
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Mr. Johnson Take a Bow
Mr. Johnson take a bow
Most humble and sedate
Tired and weary lost were we
The things that make you great
Cold and beaten and beyond
And shot right through with hate
Smiled and lit our broken souls
These things that make you great
And old were we And born unfree
And ripped at all the seams
And fraught with all
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That we had learnt
The knight of all our dreams
Oooh Mr. Johnson one last bow
And then leave us to fate
Saved our bones and sucked our toes
The things that make you great
The things that make you great
These things that make you great
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