Bravely bold Sir Robin

Rode forth from Camelot.

He was not afraid to die,

Oh brave Sir Robin.

He was not at all afraid

To be killed in nasty ways.

Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin.

He was not in the least bit scared

To be mashed into a pulp.

Or to have his eyes gouged out,

And his elbows broken.

To have his kneecaps split

And his body burned away,

And his limbs all hacked and mangled

Brave Sir Robin.

His head smashed in

And his heart cut out

And his liver removed

And his bowls unplugged

And his nostrils raped

And his bottom burnt off

And his penis

“That’s, that’s enough music for now lads, there’s dirty work afoot.”

Brave Sir Robin ran away.

(“No!”)

Bravely ran away away.

(“I didn’t!”)

When danger reared it’s ugly head,

He bravely turned his tail and fled.

(“I never!”)

Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about

And gallantly he chickened out.

(“You’re lying!”)

Swiftly taking to his feet,

He beat a very brave retreat.

Bravest of the brave, Sir Robin!