Kitty! I'm probably the singer of the Suicide Arms all those years ago. Here's my version (Mac forgot one verse.):
The Suicide Arms: Tune: Oh, dear, what can the Matter be?

Chorus (sing first, as well as after each verse):
Now it's oh, dear, what can the matter be?
Trouble's a'brewing away down in Battersea.
Forty-five coppers were laid out last Saturday,
Down at the Suicide Arms.

They were tied up in bundles and thrown in the water.
They weighted 'em down with great sacks of mortar.
I'm telling you this is the liveliest quarter
That you ever saw in your life.

Now they sent an inspector, but he didn't get far.
They battered his head in with a blooming great crowbar,
And stuck to his tunic a dirty great showcard,
To say how he'd gone to his rest.

Now the missus came out as the pubs were a'closing,
And, being a woman, she must stick her nose in.
So they broke all the bottles containing the sloe gin,
That she'd bought at the Suicide Arms.

Now when she came in she said, "Bill put your hat on.
You know I'm a lady, and I'll not be sat on."
So Muggins goes out there to take all those chaps on
That she'd met at the Suicide Arms.

Now they blacked both me eyes and they hit me with coshes.
They took me on a stretcher way down to St. Thomas's.
All I was fed on was cow juice and poultices;
Wish I was single again.

This story has a moral, that I'd like to point out.
If you see any trouble, then keep your big nose out,
'Cos as soon as you stop one, your bleeding light goes out,
Down at the Suicide Arms.
Charlie