Come out of your hideaway, miserable sod!
We know it was you, so fair cop and all that,
All right, Lucky fellow, you’ve powerful friends,
Give up while you can, and we’ll do you a deal,
You live in South African! Do I indeed?
You can’t escape justice forever, old man;
You’ve shaved your moustache and you’ve got a disguise,
A problem indeed! I’m doing all right,
Or come to your senses, I’ve got off the hook,
Yeah, I know the one WHO got away is correct, in fact that is one of the common grammatical errors that bugs me, for some reason, but here I was using it as a pun. If you are not familiar with it, ask any angler. On a more serious note, check out ‘Lucan’ — Portrait of a lowlife aristocrat
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The One That Got Away
We’ve chased you for many a year,
Come out of your hideaway, said Mr Plod;
Oh no, said the gambler, no fear!
Now how about packing it in?
You’ve gotta be kidding; I know where you’re at,
You don’t even know where I’ve been.
But you’re on the run from the law,
So isn’t it time that you made your amends?
You really are kidding – haw, haw!
We’ll put a good word to the judge;
The Yard are in hot pursuit, hard on your heel.
To that I can only say: Fudge!
Bolivia? Chile? Brazil?
We follow you everywhere. You’ve not a lead,
You’re green as a new dollar bill!
We got Ronnie Kray, we’ll get you.
Who can’t escape justice? I bloody well can!
You haven’t the foggiest clue.
But we’ve got your fingerprints, Lucky;
And you’ve got a problem, you have to tell lies,
One day you’ll be coming unstuck-y.
I live off the fat of the land,
And you’ve never had me not once in your sight,
You idiots won’t understand
I’m free for a life and a day,
Cos I ain’t no run-of-the-mill petty crook,
I’m Lucky Lord Lucan
Who got clean away.