She stood on the bridge at midnight,
Throwin' snowballs at the moon,
She said "sir I've never 'ad it",
But she spoke too fuckin' soon.
CHORUS:
It's the same the whole world over,
It's the poor wot gets the blame.
It's the rich wot gets the pleasure,
Ain't it all a fuckin' shame.
She stood on the bridge at midnight,
Pickin' black'eads from 'er crutch,
She said "sir I've never 'ad it",
I said "no, not fuckin' much".
CHORUS:
She was poor but she was honest,
Victim of a rich man's whim,
First he fucked her, then he left her,
And she had a child by him.
CHORUS:
See him with his hounds and horses,
See him strutting at his club,
While the victim of his wenching,
Sips her gin inside a pub.
CHORUS:
Then she came to London City,
Just to hide her bleeding shame,
But a politician fucked her,
Put her on the streets again.
CHORUS:
See him in the House of Commons,
Passing laws to combat crime,
While the victim of his evil,
Walks the streets at night in shame.
CHORUS:
See him riding in a carriage,
Past the gutter where she stands,
He has made a stylish marriage,
And has syphilitic hands.
CHORUS:
See him sitting at the theatre,
In the front row with the best,
While the girl that he has ruined,
Entertains a sordid guest.
CHORUS:
See him seated in his Roller,
Driving homeward from the hunt,
He got riches from his marriage,
She got sores upon her cunt.
CHORUS:
See her stand in Piccadilly,
Offering up her aching quim,
She is now completely ruined,
And the cause of all is him.
CHORUS:
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