SHE WAS POOR BUT SHE WAS HONEST
 Written and composed by R.P. Weston and Bert Lee - 1930
Performed by Billy Bennett (1887-1942)
Performed by Elsa Lanchester (1902-1986) 

She was poor but she was honest,
though she came from 'umble stock,
And her honest heart was beating
Underneath her tattered frock.

But the rich man saw her beauty,
She knew not his base design,
And he took her to a hotel
And bought her a small port wine.

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,
Isn't it a blooming shame?

In the rich man's arms she fluttered
Like a bird with a broken wing,
But he loved her and he left her,
Now she hasn't got no ring.

Time has flown - outcast and homeless
In the street she stands and says,
While the snowflakes fall around her,
'Won't you buy my bootlaces.'

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,
Isn't it a blooming shame?

Standing on the bridge at midnight
She says, 'Farewell, blighted love!'
There's a scream, a splash, good 'eavens!
What is she a doing of?

Soon they dragged her from the river,
Water from her clothes they wrang.
They all thought that she was drownded,
But the corpse got up and sang:

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,
Isn't it a blooming shame?

She was poor but she was honest,
Victim of a rich man's game.
First he loved her, then he left her,
And she lost her maiden name.

Then she ran away to London
For to hide her grief and shame.
There she met an Army captain,
And she lost her name again.

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,
Isn't it a blooming shame?

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

See him there at the theatre,
In the front row with the best,
While the girl that he has ruined
Entertains a sordid guest.

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,
Isn't it a blooming shame?

See her on the bridge at midnight,
Crying "Farewell, blighted love".
Then a scream, a splash and Goodness!
What is she a-doing of?

When they dragged her from the river
Water from her clothes they wrung.
Though they thought that she was drownded,
Still her corpse got up and sung:

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,
Isn't it a blooming shame?