Kangaroo courts playing deadly games will have another court to face

I’m A Lucky Son Of A Gun
by Paul McCann

They kidnapped me from off the street then cuffed my hands and cuffed my feet .
I thought to myself , here we go ,
this is a sinister hello .

Nowhere to go ,nowhere to run .
I’m a lucky son of a gun .

They put me in a cold dark room
it was late in the afternoon ,
when they bundled me in their car and drove me somewhere not that far .

i had no idea what I’d done .
I’m a lucky son of a gun .

Interrogated and accused ,
illegally held and abused .
Terrorised without any cause ,
I hadn’t broken any laws .

Uncomfortably numb and struck dumb , I’m a lucky son of a gun .

The loaded gun that they had got had misfired whenever they shot , then they said I was free to go , but better they forget me .

Now I can tell everyone.
I’m a lucky son of a gun.

I went and took my hat and coat
and then I went and caught that boat to go across the deep blue sea to somewhere they’ll never find me .

Fortune favours bravely for some,
I’m a lucky son of a gun .

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