What you lookin’ at?

[Sir_Nigel]

I wish they called me Mad Dog but you gotta earn that name -

gain some notoriety and ill gotten fame

but apart from the scars and the baseball bat

how does a man get a name like that?

How many pints do I have to neck?

And how many pubs should I subsequently wreck?

And who can I pummel to a blood soaked mess

so his pitiful face makes the local press?

Where should I go to raise maximum hell

so they have to call the riot van and dogs as well?

 

I wanna be a hard nut, a street-fightin’ man

needing seven beefy coppers just to throw me in the van.

Not just unpredictable, not just temperamental,

I wanna make ‘em realise I’m Proper NUT-JOB MENTAL.

 

And anyone who crosses me I’ll make ‘em go away.

Some might know what happened too, but they’re not gonna say

for mindful of their welfare they’re unlikely to accuse

a very nasty piece of work with badly drawn tattoos.

 

I’ll offer you protection just to earn a little money,

then smash some geezer’s kneecaps JUST FOR LOOKIN’ AT ME FUNNY.

So every Dick and Harry knows my ‘appy smiling face,

Fackin’ ‘ell it’s Mad Dog, give the guy some space.

 

Then when some little motherf**cker pushes in the line.

I can tap him on the shoulder and say: Awright sunshine.

Nothing more required, a message tersely put

and rather more effective than a disapproving tut.