In the British Music Hall Songs workshop at this year's Getaway, I sang this song (the Bikel version, as above) and was surprised that, while nearly everyone joined in on the chorus (which that version does only at the end), almost no one sang along on any of the rest of the song.
Now, after searching the Mudcat forum, the DT and Google, I realize why.   There must be umpteen eleventy variations on this song, at least, and probably the workshop participants knew at least 2 or 3 of those.

Here are two other versions, under the title "It's the Same (Syme) The Whole World Over":



This one is a sweet little variant:
IT'S THE SAME THE WHOLE WORLD OVER (DT 3)

She was just a poor man's daughter,
Victim of the rich man's whim,
For he fucked her and he left her,
With a sore and bleeding quim.

CHORUS:
It's the same the whole world over,
It's the poor that get the blame,
It's the rich that get the pleasure,
Ain't it all a bloody shame.

Oh, she went up to the city,
For to hide her bleeding shame,
But a Labour leader fucked her,
(But the landlord up and fucked her,)
Put her on the street again.

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.

See him with his hounds and horses,
See him strutting at his club,
While the victim of his whoring,
Drinks her gin inside a pub.

See him riding in his carriage,
Past the gutter where she stands,
He has made a stylish marriage,
While she wrings her ringless hands.

See him at the fine theater ("thee-ay-ter"),
In the font row with the best,
While the girl that he has ruined,
Entertains a sordid guest.

See her on the bridge at midnight,
Throwing snowballs at the moon,
She said, "Sir, I've never had it,"
But she spoke too fucking soon.

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

See her standing in Picadilly,
Offering her aching quim,
She is now completely ruined,
It was all because of him.

See him seated in his carriage.
Riding homeward from the hunt,
He got riches from his marriage,
She got sores upon her cunt.

Standing on the bridge at midnight,
Throwing cunt-rags at the moon,
First a scream, a splash, Oh goodness!
Has she done a fucking swoon?

When they dragged her from the river,
Water from her clothes they wrung,
And they thought that she had downed,
Till her corpse got up and sung:

(Chorus)


Then there came a wealthy pimp,
Marriage was the tale he told,
She had no one else to take her,
So she sold her soul for gold.

(Chorus)

—————
Then there's this one from a "traditional Irish music" website:

It's The Syme The 'Ole World Over


It's The Syme The  Whole World Over
http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/irish-folk-music/irish%20songs/its_the_syme_the_whole_world_over.htm