Sheep to the slaughter oh I thought this must be love All your sons and daughters in a strangle hold with a kid glove She's got eyes like saucers oh you think she's a dish She is the blue chip that belongs to the big fish
Chorus:
But it's easier to say I love you, than Yours sincerely I suppose All little sisters like to try on big sister's clothes Big sister's clothes
The sport of kings, the old queen's heart The prince in darkness stole some tart And it's in the papers, it's in the charts It's in the stop press before it all starts.
With a hammer on the slap and tickle under grisly garments With all the style and finesse of the purchase of armaments Compassion went out of fashion That's all your concern meant Sweat it out for thirty seconds on home improvements