Born in England's pleasant green Like a picture postcard scene To childhood spread with fond maternal care From the day that he was born Proud relations came to fawn And compliment his pretty golden hair In boyhood sent away To a boarding school to stay Its crumbling proud traditions forced to bear And his friends in this new world Said he looks more like a girl With those blue eyes and pretty golden hair Fades secluded youth Into manhood's search for truth His mother's eyes now wet had turned to stare For he said I must be bound This day for London town For I believe my fortune's waiting there So like an eager cutting knife He plunged in a new life Oh never known beforehand anywhere And the thought that he might trip In his ignorance and slip Never struck beneath his pretty golden hair Ah the days soon grew thin And boredom fast set in His job was thrown away without a care For a man who softly said You'll earn twice as much instead With those blue eyes and pretty golden hair Well London town possessed Of many a tempter's nest And thus he fell with scarce another care As so easily he slipped Into prostitution's grip Foundationed by his pretty golden hair Ah but the years quickly flew And his mind slowly grew From early freedom into deep despair As the money ceased to roll A tired and lonely soul Poured curses on his pretty golden hair Ah the years stole their time Now the living's hard to find And early friends have vanished in the air And the gay parties's ease Changed to public lavatories Have turned to grey his pretty golden hair Oh his life was only used And his body just abused By those who never think and never care But though his file said suicide No, that wasn't why he died It was murder by his pretty golden hair