I'm a maker of ballads right pretty
I write em right here in the street
You can buy them 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
Keepin the demons at bay
There's nothin like gin for drownin them in
But they'll always be back on a hangin day
On a hangin day
They come rattlin 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 turnin em off at the gallows
She'll be sellin right under the drop
Boys, sellin right under the drop
Then you'll find me in Madame Geneva's
Keepin the demons at bay
There's nothin like gin for drownin them in
But they'll always be back on a hangin day
On a hangin day