What's this crawling from the gutter
Black and white, an awful mess
To insult intelligence
In the name of the free press

British Leyland, miners strike
Your bigoted point of view
You overblow your lies
How can we believe it's true

Rupert Murdoch, take your farce
Roll it up, and shove it, up your arse
Here's one Sun that doesn't shine
Without you here, the weather's fine

You wallow in sex and and scandal
And you tell people how to feel
With page 3, tits and cartoons
Have a touch they're almost real

You say you're for the people
A crusader, that's a laugh
I won't ever have you leading me
Up your garden path