Straight to Hell (edited version) The Clash

If you can play on fiddle, how's about a British jig and reel?
Speaking King's English in quotation, as railhead towns feel the steel mills rust
Water froze, in the generation
Clear as winter ice, this is your paradise

There ain't no need for ya, there ain't no need for ya
Go straight to hell boy, go straight to hell boy

Wanna join in a chorus, of the Amerasian blues?
When it's Christmas out in Ho Chi Minh City
Kiddie say "Papa-Papa-Papa-Papa-san, take me home?"
"See me got photo-photo-photograph of you and Mamma-Mamma-Mamma-san?"
"Of you and Mamma-Mamma-Mamma-san"
Lemme tell ya about your blood, bamboo kid, it ain't Coca-Cola, it's rice

Straight to hell boy, go straight hell boy
Go straight hell boy, go straight hell boy

Oh Papa-san, please take me home
Oh Papa-san, everybody they wanna go home
So Mamma-san says

You wanna play mind-crazed banjo, on the druggy-drag Ragtime U.S.A.?
In Parkland International Hah! Junkiedom U.S.A.?
Where procaine proves the purest rock man groove and rat poison
The volatile Molatov says "Pssst, Hey chico we got a message for ya, see, vamos vamos muchacho"
From Alphabet City, all the way A to Zed, dead, head