| There was a time, now very far away
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| When we set up together, I and she
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| I had the brains, and she supplied the breast
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| I did her right, and she supported me
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| A way of life then, if not quite the best
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| And when a client came I’d climb out of our bed
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| And treat him nice, and go and have a drink instead
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| When he paid up I would address him: «Sir
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| Come any time you feel you fancy her.»
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| That time’s gone past, but what would I not give
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| To see that whorehouse where we used to live?
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| That was the time, now very far away
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| He was so sweet he bashed me where it hurt
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| And when the cash ran out the feathers really flew
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| He’d up and say, «I'm going to pawn your skirt»
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| A skirt is nice, but no skirt is OK too
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| He had his cheek, he kept me locked away all day
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| But came the night he brought acquaintances to play
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| If I’d object he’d knock me headlong down the stairs
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| I had the bruises off and on for years
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| That time’s gone past, but what would I not give
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| To see that whorehouse where we used to live?
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| That was a time now very far away
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| Not that our state seems much improved today
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| When afternoons were all I had for you
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| I told you she was generally booked up
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| (The night’s more normal, but daytime will do)
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| Once I was pregnant, so the doctor said
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| So we reversed positions on the bed
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| You thought your weight would make it premature
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| But in the end we flushed it down the sewer
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| That could not last, but what would I not give
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| To see that whorehouse where we used to live? |