Now there's many a misguided Canuck lad
Has spent a night in a jail,
WHen he's guzzled down too much Beaver Beer,
Intent on chasing tail.

But boys are boys, as the saying goes,
And mostly, they grow upper.
They learn what's their and what is not,
And to wash their mitts for supper.

But Shane was not the learning kind
Growing up was not his way,
And when he did time, for his petty crimes,
Unrepentant he did stay.

He retained his sneer, and his crude veneer
Of long-haired, foolish punk,
And the judge grew tired of seeing him
And his dumb rebellious junk.

So the judge decided he's had enough
And he looked at the punk with a frown.
"Six months at hard in the breaker's yard!"
And he brought that hammer down.

So Shane's gone down; and the girls in town
Don't miss him at all, as yet.
They're glad to be shut of his groping hands
ANd a leer they can't forget.

And his friends don't notice he's not around
(Except them he owes money to);
And the town seems just a tad better off
With Shane McBride in stew.

And if the day comes when the boy gets out,
And shows up once more, why, then
Most likely they town will break out in signs
That say "Send him back again!"

Oh, you can talk of your rough-cut breed
And of punks with their hair cut wide
But there's no dumb fuck half as out of luck
As that asshole, Shane McBride.