She was Poor but She was Honest
She was poor, but she was honest,
Though she came from humble stock,
And an 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 small port wine.
Chorus:
It's the same the whole world over
It's the poor wot gets the blame
It's the rich wot gets the pleasure
Ain't it all a bleedin' shame?
In the rich man's arms she fluttered,
Like a bird with broken wing,
But he loved her and he left her,
Now she hasn't got no ring.
Time has flown, outcast and helpless,
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 wot gets the blame,
It's the rich wot gets the pleasure,
Ain't it all a bleedin' shame?
Standing on the bridge at midnight,
She says "Farewell, blighted love".
There's a scream, a splash -- Good Heavens!
What is she a-doing of?
So they dragged her from the river,
Water from her clothes they wrung.
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 wot gets the blame,
It's the rich wot gets the pleasure,
Ain't it all a bleedin' shame?
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