Lyrics:

Coyne

Yeah they call him the Karate King
Chopping children down like trees
Bringing cows to their knees
Making their udders bleed
Now they call him the Karate King
Top of the shop in his robe
Nothing there can grow when he's around
Going chop-chop (x3) down in the gymnasium
They call him the Karate King
Like a bird on a wing
Standing posing at the window, at the door in his vest
His white and muscled flexing at all the passing girls
Smashing his way through the window frames
Ripping apart his mother's pearls
They're dying on the dressing table
Chop-chop (x4)
So if you see the Karate King
Help him, help him
Maybe you'll tie, tie his shoe laces
Come on, come on, comment on his pomaded hair
Tell him he would have been an excelent kamikaze pilot in the Second World War
Cause that's what he wants to hear, that's what he wants to hear, in the gymnasium
Chop-chop (x3)