He's got secular joy He's a peculiar boy But now the lustre has gone The peculiar boy is no more Who'll save him from being a man? Not me He's got precious youth But forsaken, forsooth And now the shine grows dim Change tradition for whim Who'll save him from being a man? Not me He's got clothes all red Strewn on a purple bed But now the red's in his eyes He's no longer a prize Who'll save him from being a man? Not me I'm qualified, not me I'm insured to that, not me I didn't kill the cat, not me I don't know where it's at, not me Now his skin is slack, he shows a certain lack Who'll save him from being a man? Not me So, who'll save him from being a man? Not me Who'll save him from being a man? Not me Who'll save him from being a man? Not me