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SHE WAS POOR, BUT SHE WAS HONEST

She was poor, but she was honest,
Pure unstaind was her name,
Till the local squire came courting,
And the poor girl lost her name.

Chorus:
It's the same the whole world over,
It's the poor what gets the blame;
It's the rich what gets the pleasure;
Ain't it all a bleedin' shame?

In that rich man's arms she fluttered
Like a bird with broken wing;
First he loved her, them he left her,
And the poor girl got no ring.

So she ran away to London
For to hide her grief and shame,
But she met another squire,
And she lost her name again!

Standing on the bridge at midnight,
Throwing snowballs at the moon,
She said, "Sir, I've never had it,"
But she spoke too bloody soon!

Standing on the bridge at midnight,
Picking blackheads from her crutch,
She said "Sir, I've never had it,"
He said "No, not bloody much!"

See him in the House of Commons,
Making laws to put down crime,
While the victim of his passions
Crawls away to hide her shame!

In a rose-embowered cottage
Where her ancient parents live,
Sipping Guinness that she sends 'em,
Yet they never can forgive!

(sts. 4 & 5 learned in the Royal Navy, 1953)
(My incipit is the common one)MS
@bawdy
filename[ SYMEOVR5
TUNE FILE: SYMEOVER
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MS

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