Johnny B. Badde
Way down inside the stomachs of the Royal Blues,
There lived a nagging feeling they were bound to lose;
They looked around for someone they could say was 'mad'
And they picked upon the puncher who was Johnny B. Badde -
They thought he couldn't improvise a speech too well,
But he doled them out a dozen different kinds of hell:
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Johnny B. Badde!
He used to be the fighting force behind a fishing smack,
And he scuppered all the ministers of railroad track -
They used to pray they'd never hear him in his full tirade,
Even though The Pretty People made him take a fade,
And the passers-by who heard him turned their heads to say
'My my how that tea-room tyke has saved the day' -
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Johnny B. Badde!
The voters told him, Johnny B., you are our man,
And soon you'll be the leader of the national plan -
His enemies assumed that they could knock him down
But soon their scarlet faces were the talk of town:
Their tactics didn't seem to be too bloody bright
Given Johnny B. Badde to fight -
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Go Johnny Go,
Go, Go - Johnny B. Badde!