Pedophile Rolf Harris pens angry song about his victims

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Calls for Rolf Harris to be denied parole after the angry lyrics from a song he wrote to insult his victims leaked to the media. Photo: Getty/Daily Mail [inset]
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Prison has proven the inspiration for many great literary works, but not so for convicted pedophile Rolf Harris who has penned an unrepentant, misogynistic song behind bars directly targeting his victims.

Harris, 84, is serving five years and nine months in an English prison for a long series of sexual assaults against children, at least one of whom was as young as seven.

But lyrics written behind bars by the once lauded artist and song writer indicate Harris, eight months into his incarceration, does not recognise the severity of his crimes.

WARNING: Some readers may find the content below distressing

The Daily Mail has obtained a leaked letter from Harris containing the lyrics to a song which calls his victims “slimy little woodworm[s], and “perfumed sultry wench[es]”, among other insults.

“Well, I’ve managed to break my duck and start writing a letter,” writes Harris.

“After eight months inside, the inner rage has come to fore.

“I’ve started writing a song about the injustice of it all.”

What follows is a vicious diatribe which calls the victims of Harris’ crimes worms who crawled out of the woodwork from 40 years ago who want to get their 50-years-old hooks into his dough. He suggests it should be set to a country tune with a strong backbeat.

Following the song, Harris explains he has not yet been able to put it to music but says he plans to record the piece as soon as he emerges from his five year and nine month sentence.

However, Harris’ resurgent creativity could mean that he has to wait longer to compose the melody.

According to the Daily Mail, lawyers representing Harris’ victims have seized on the letter and demanded that it be used to force the Tie Me Kangaroo Down singer to serve his full sentence without parole.

Lyrics in full:
Climb up out of the woodwork babe
From forty years ago
The climate’s great in Britain now
For making loads of dough
You’ve festered down there long enough
Time’s right to grab your chance
Clap eyes on a rich celebrity
And make the bastard dance

Make him squirm, slimy little woodworm
Make him squirm, squirm, squirm
Sink your claws right in to the hilt, don’t like him go

(Group) No! No!

Make him burn, burn, burn,
Slimy little woodworm, make him burn
Get your fifty-years-old hooks into his dough

(Group) Go baby go

The old bandwagon you crawled out of
(Rotten to the core)
Conceals a host of foul accusers
Twenty maybe more
My guess is they’ll slide after you
All following your stench
Perhaps you believe you’re pretty still
Some perfumed sultry wench

Make him squirm
I can hear you singing
Make him squirm, squirm, squirm
Just imagine all of the money waiting there

(Group) Oh Yeah

Make him burn, burn, burn
Come and join the feeding frenzy girls,
Don’t miss out, come on join me for your share

(Group) Put it there

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