Young Offenders - Original Version

Well, he was born under a Burberry star
And made his way back home in the midwives car
And Mum and Dad, pickpocketed the Nova's keys
And drove over the limit in your built up street

And someone shouts
Wait a minute, there goes Jack the Lad
With his underage girlfriend, who was scantily clad
Hundred and one, miles an hour
Around dead man's bend
Forced an innocent life
Just to come to an end

Ba, ba, da, ba, da, ba
Ba, ba, ba, da, ba
He'll bring you down again
Ba, ba, da, ba, da, ba
Ba, ba, ba, da, ba

Well, son it's your holiday
Welcome to the young offenders home
We've got all the mods and cons
So, you'll never, ever want to go home

Knock yourself out, if you please
We've got PSP's galore
I think you'll reoffend again
I have a feeling that you'll want some more

Ba, ba, da, ba, da, ba
Ba, ba, ba, da, ba
He'll bring you down again
Ba, ba, da, ba, da, ba
Ba, ba, ba, da, ba

Ba, ba, da, ba, da, ba
Ba, ba, ba, da, ba
He'll bring you down again
Ba, ba, da, ba, da, ba
Ba, ba, ba, da, ba

Son, when you coming home?
Son, when you coming home?
Son, when you coming home?
The young offenders home

Ba, ba, da, ba, da, ba
Ba, ba, ba, da, ba
He'll bring you down again
Ba, ba, da, ba, da, ba
Ba, ba, ba, da, ba

Spider web elbows
Gold chains
And what's-his-names
Faces like bulldogs
Been beaten up and rearranged

Spider web elbows
Gold chains
And what's-his-names
Faces like bulldogs
Been beaten up and rearranged

He burnt my hand with a cigarette
He burnt my hand with a cigarette
He burnt my hand with a cigarette
He burnt my hand with a cigarette