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Well my name it is Dai Young

I’m the King of Welsh Goth

 The village I come from

 Is near Aber-soch

I was brought up on Bauhaus

And black bedroom walls

And I had my first Snakebite

When I was in halls

Now the graveyard is call-ing

The sky’s getting greyer

I’ll drink the warm blood of

The Borough Surveyor

And I’ll murder the verger

I’ve seen how he gawps

And I’ll write on his headstone:

“Here lies Jones the Corpse”

Now my overweight girlfriend

She sits and she crimps

Her mother’s convinced she’s

Communing with imps

Her brother’s alright though

He’s a good lad is Wilf

‘Cos he’s into Plac-ebo

And Cradle Of Filth

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At my gig up in Butlins

The Redcoats complained

They tried to remove me

The bottles they rained

But for the first time in history

I didn’t run and hide

And the scousers in shellsuits

Had goths on their side

( , , , , , , )

Now this Land Of My Fathers

It don’t suit my needs

I’d rather be some place

Like Bradford or Leeds

Where the Gipton teenagers

Could meet in my shed

For advice on mascara

And all things undead

( , , , , , , )

Now my left index finger

Is nine inches long

It’s hovering over

A world that’s gone wrong

Ask me to Prestatyn

And that’s what I’ll do

And we’ll all die together

And Dylan can sue