The Wages of Sin

Princess Puffer:

Crime don't pay that's what I tells 'em

If it did, would I be here mixing pipes

Wot then I sells 'em for a pint of rotten beer?

Throats you cut to pocket tuppence

Then you slut to cop some sleep

Bash a face for bleedin' tuppence

pure disgrace to work so cheap

So I say, don't be a sinner for the price of London gin

You can't pay for one square dinner with the wages of sin

Sell my soul? 'Cor love, come off it

Who would buy this sack of skin?

On the whole, there ain't much profit in the wages of sin

I've seen girls from gutter fam'lies trap

rich men with flutt'ry ways

And they coo, "Cor, pass the jam please,"

Over nuptial breakfast trays

Over there in bed eleven sleeps a bleedin' hypocrite

Spends his days eyes cast to 'eaven;

Spends his nights among this sh

S' why I say, don't take half-measures

Do things right and dig right in

In this world, there's greater treasures

than the wages of sin

I get threats, but seldom offers. If I did

I'd pack it in

You can't fill too many coffers with the wages of sin