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