Another.

She was poor, but she was honest,
pure, unstain-ed was her fame
'till a country squire came courting
and the poor girl lost her name
Ch
It's the same the whole world over,
it's the poor what gets the blame,
While the rich has all the pleasures.
Now, ain't that a bloody shame!

So she went away to London
just to hide her guilty shame
There she met an army chaplain
Once again she lost her name

Hear him as he jaws the Tommies
Warning of the devil's flame
With her whole heart she had trusted
but again she lost her name

So she settled down in London
sinking deeper in her shame
'till she met a labour leader
and once again she lost her name

Now he's in the House of Commons
making laws to put down crime
while the victim of his pleasures
walks the street each night in shyme (Well, it rhymes)

Then there came a bloated Bishop
Marriage was the tale he told
There was no-one else to take her
so she sold her soul for gold

In that rich man's arms she fluttered
like a bird with broken wing,
first he lovedher, then he left her
and the poor girl got no ring

See the girl outside the poorhouse
selling matches by the box
while the swell from high society
hands out doses of the pox

In a cottage, down in Sussex
Live her parents, old and lame
and they drink the wine she sends them
but they never speaks her name

In their poor and humble dwelling
there her grieving parents live
sipping champagne that she sends them
but they never can forgive


Fron Jerry Silverman's '62 Outrageous Songs.'