The Scotsman in the duffle coat took aim and shot his wife,
burnt down a coastal station near Dundee
and stabbed another fellow with a kitchen paring-knife.
He glanced into the mirror. It was me.
The Scotsman in the duffle coat was me.

The Englishman in slacks and blazer fiddled the accounts
and chucked freshwater salmon in the sea,
embezzled funds for charities in rather large amounts,
but when I saw his photo, it was me.
The Englishman in slacks and blazer - me.

Soon I saw what wicked days
I'd spent around the globe,
told myself to change my ways
And be a bit like Job:
patiently take life in hand
and do away with crime.
I gave the salt back to the sand
and now I'm doing time.

The Cuban in the trilby, making joints and selling weed,
is selling marijuana saplings too.
The Dane still hesitates to do the promised deed.
I watched him on the stage and it was you.
The Cuban and the Danish prince were you.

We're all a bunch of criminals and shysters here on earth.
We all fare-dodge the London bendy-bus.
Observe the chuckling baby merely seconds after birth.
Look closely in the microscope. It's us.
The baby in its mother’s arms is us.