Deacon Blue And Ricky Ross
Fellow Hoodlums
Fellow Hoodlums
On the night that
Maxton died
I fell over
The clyde was full of old tyres
The wind nearly pulled my
Breeches off
And ann kelly
She kissed my mouth
Fellow hoodlums and
Engineers
The unionre all here
Is a butcher now
Always has been
And he picks his teeth
With old rusty meat hooks
And he sends his beef with the bike boys
Monday to saturday
Partick to cowcaddens
Chorus

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