You can spot Sasha Vandal from a mile away, Steel, helmet and shield all out on display. Most people each morning pick trousers and shoes, Sallet or armet? Sasha’s got to choose. The morning bus is packed, and everyone’s half-dead, A whole damn day of work is waiting up ahead. Sasha steps aboard, sees how tight they’re packed, “Sorry, folks, I’ll take the next bus.” He steps back. Even when he’s drunk, Sasha stays polite, When friends need a hand, Sasha joins the fight. One little flaw, but he thinks it’s all right: Instead of a shirt, he just wears chainmail. Every fuckin’ day— HE WEARS CHAINMAIL! (What the hell is wrong with this guy?!) Nothing! He’s a damn fine knight. The boss brings up the dress code once again, “Enough of this circus — we all dress the same.” Sasha nods: “Makes sense. One standard should be set.” Next day, even the boss wears a bascinet. After work, Sasha heads down to the pub, At the coat check: spear and cuirass — standard stuff. Of course he orders ale, then takes his usual seat, If he spills a drop, he wipes it nice and neat. Even when he’s drunk, Sasha stays polite, When friends need a hand, Sasha joins the fight. One little flaw, but he thinks it’s all right: Instead of a shirt, he just wears chainmail. Every fuckin’ day— HE WEARS CHAINMAIL! (What the hell is wrong with this guy?!) Nothing! He’s a damn fine knight. It’s getting late, so Sasha hails a cab, The driver sees the armor — his jaw goes slack. Sasha says, “Don’t worry — I’ll cover wear and tear.” Then pays him four times the fare: “That should make it fair.” Tomorrow Sergei ties the knot at last, These days he wears shirts; the armor’s in the past. Sasha combs his plume and gets his surcoat pressed, Twenty grand inside the card — he wishes them the best. Even when he’s drunk, Sasha stays polite, When friends need a hand, Sasha joins the fight. One little flaw, but he thinks it’s all right: Instead of a shirt, he just wears chainmail. Even when he’s drunk, Sasha stays polite, When friends need a hand, Sasha joins the fight. One little flaw, but he thinks it’s all right: Instead of a shirt, he just wears chainmail. Every fuckin’ day— HE WEARS CHAINMAIL! Every fuckin’ day— HE WEARS CHAINMAIL! (What the hell is wrong with this guy?!) Nothing! HE’S A DAMN FINE KNIGHT!
