Verse 1 A whistle blows (like Tugboat's tune, they say). They introduced him in a working man's way. With vignettes of grit, a curious sight, Chopping down a tree with all his might. A hero's build? No, not quite right... This "Real Man's Man" was primed for a fight. (Pre-Chorus) The announcer booms, a proud decree: "He squeezes his own oranges, you see!" Pulp and all, a brute's technique, A villain's glint begins to peek. Chorus He's a man! Such a man! (Such a man!) He's a real, A real man's man! He's a man! Such a man! (Such a man!) He's a real, A real man's man! Verse 2 The gimmick faded, a silly stunt, Through haze and fog, a blurry front. But from the rubble, a new lord rose, A sneer perfected, a spine that froze. With just a foul look, he'd draw your ire, A snotty Englishman, full of pride. (Pre-Chorus) No more dirt or juice to press, Just brutal, technical finesse. A working-class schmoe he was no more, A true ring general you'd learn to deplore. Chorus He's a man! Such a man! (Such a man!) He's a real, A real man's man! He's a man! Such a man! (Such a man!) He's a real, A real man's man! Verse 3 The brass knuckles gleam, a regal art, To stun a fan favorite and tear them apart. A "Lord" in the ring, with power and grace, A smug, superior look upon his face. He'd make you bow to his command, The most refined fist in all the land. Verse 4 He’ll besmirch your name, then break your nose, A “silly little sod” before he strikes the pose. With a “Power and the Glory” technical display, He’ll stretch you out and make you pay. A “Blue Blood” boast, a regal sneer, The greatest villain, year on year. So “have a nice day?” Don’t be absurd. You’re left with just his final word… (Pre-Chorus) You won't find him pouring from a carton, oh no! He savors the pain that he bestows! A master of the mat, a villain true, And this next part he says to you: [Villainous Bridge] (Music drops to a tense, quiet hum. Spoken with cold, arrogant clarity.) "You come into this job with nothing. You leave it with nothing… The job owes you nothing, and you’re in a completely bent business. This is what I am. I have a made mind that just works as a villain. When I see a kindred spirit… a man who would stand next to me to warm his hands on the bloody flames, I know. True villains can’t pretend to be anything else. They are what they are. And I… am bloody glorious." (A beat of silence. Then, a new, even colder spoken line cuts through.) "I don't merely beat you. I besmirch your name, correct your posture, and send a letter to your mother about your poor life choices. All before the three-count." [Regal Fanfare Guitar Solo] (A triumphant, menacing guitar solo erupts—pure Brian May-inspired grandeur. Multi-layered, harmonized leads weave a melody that is both a royal fanfare and a technical manifesto. It sings with arrogant, virtuous precision over a foundation of pounding, declarative bass brass. The solo builds, climbs, and reigns supreme before sliding seamlessly into the final onslaught.) [Triple Finale Chorus] (Music explodes back in with full orchestra, choir, and crowd noise. A colossal, marching rhythm.) HE'S A MAN! (A REAL MAN!) SUCH A MAN! (SUCH A MAN!) HE'S A REAL, A REAL MAN'S MAN! (Bow down!) HE'S A MAN! (Glorious!) SUCH A MAN! (SUCH A MAN!) HE'S A REAL, A REAL MAN'S MAN! (Music swells, adding brass fanfares and timpani. The choir becomes dominant.) HE'S A MAN! (Oh yes he is!) SUCH A MAN! (SUCH A MAN!) HE'S A REAL, A REAL MAN'S MAN! (The Lord!) HE'S A MAN! (He is!) SUCH A MAN! (SUCH A MAN!) HE'S A REAL, A REAL MAN'S MAN! (Climactic, earth-shattering finale. All instruments, choir, and deafening crowd chant as one.) HE'S A MAN! (I AM A MAN!) SUCH A MAN! (SUCH A MAN!) HE'S A REAL, A REAL MAN'S MAN! (THE REAL MAN'S MAN!) HE'S A MAN! SUCH A MAN! (SUCH A MAN!) HE'S A REAL, A REAL... MAN'S... MAN! (Music ends on a final, sustained, and victorious chord.)
