He’s got secular joynHe’s a peculiar boynBut now the lustre has gonenThe peculiar boy is no morennWho’ll save him from being a mannNot mennHe’s got precious youthnBut forsaken, forsoothnAnd now the shine grows dimnChange tradition for whimnnWho’ll save him from being a mannNot mennHe’s got clothes all rednAll on a purple bednBut now the red’s in his eyesnHe’s no longer a prizennWho’ll save him from being a mannNot mennHe’s a peculiar boynYes, he’s a peculiar boynBut now his skin is slacknHe shows a certain lacknnWho’ll save him from being a mannNot me