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The Talks
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Hacks
When you was 18,
You kept your nose clean,
Bright blue eyed
Essex boy with ambitiously bold schemes,
Straight out the nest writing for gutter press,
Didn't stop to look around just grinned at London town
That's where the hacks go down;
They really hit the ground,
That's where the hacks go down
You were the doctor, investigator,
You where the brains, the judge, the chief communicator
There wasn't one single web you wouldn't spin,
Took your orders from the Sun,
No scoop you couldn't win,
Took fabrications and made them come true,
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For every lie there was a spy who kissed and told you,
Couldn't believe all the headlines up your sleeve,
Set them up to knock them down
And grinned and watched them drowned!
Smoke screens, cloaks and daggers,
Fleet Street; shadowing the blaggers,
Cut loose, lower ranking boards fed to dogs at Scotland yard,
Slipped away to number ten but then,
Came accusations,
Through allegations but in your vipers pit you ordered the violations,
From your black heart exercised your darkest art,
They set you up to knock you down,
They grinned and watched you drowned
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