I'm a maker of ballads right pretty
I write them right here in the street.
You can buy them all over the city
yours for a penny a sheet.
I'm a word p_____ out of the printers
out of dens of Gin Lane
I'll write up a scene on a counter
- confessions and sins in the main, boys
confessions and sins in the main.

Then you'll find me in Madame Geneva's
keeping the demons at bay.
There's nothing like gin for drowning them in
but they'll always be back on a hanging day.

They come rattling over the cobbles
they sit on their coffins of black.
Some are struck dumb, some gabble
top-heavy on brandy or sack.
The pews are all full of fine fellows
and the hawker has set up her shop.
As they're turning them off at the gallows
she'll be selling right under the drop, boys
selling right under the drop.

Then you'll find me in Madame Geneva's
keeping the demons at bay.
There's nothing like gin for drowning them in
but they'll always be back on a hanging day.

See also:
JustSomeLyrics
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