It doesn't matter how rich you are
Or if you've changed your locks
No one explains ill-gotten gains
To the dashing "Gentleman" Fox.
If you have stolen from the poor
Or sold fake shares or stocks
No bully boys, or vicious ploys
Will save you from the Fox.
You've expoited fears, bought human tears?
Replaced true art with shocks?
You'll get such a lashing from the one who's dashing
The vengeful "Gentleman" Fox
Whether his people were killed for sport,
Or whether they ran round the rocks,
He's the non-ragged rascal now,
The rugged Gentleman Fox.
Though he's quite high born, don't you be forlorn,
He's on the side of the flocks,
He wouldn't bite a hen, though he might bite men,
The proletarian Gentleman Fox.
Is his face a mask?, perhaps we shouldn't ask,
If behind the fur, he mocks,
But he might be you, if you value what's true,
The mysterious Gentleman Fox.
Be he man or beast, he wears gloves at least,
And for attitude, he rocks!
He's wears formal dress, and fixes our mess,
The utilitarian Gentleman Fox.
So recall what I say, do not send away
The poor, with ears you box,
If you're cramned with wealth, share some of your pelf,
Or expect to meet, in the darkening street,
In your hiddenest vault, through its narrowest fault,
The Inescapable Gentleman Fox!