| When I first came to London I was only sixteen
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| With a fiver in my pocket and my ole dancing bag
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| I went down to the dilly to check out the scene
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| But I soon ended up upon the old main drag
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| There the he-males and the she-males paraded in style
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| And the old man with the money would flash you a smile
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| In the dark of an alley you would work for a five
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| For a swift one off the wrist down on the old main drag
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| In the cold winter nights the old town it was chill
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| But there were boys in the cafes who’d give you cheap pills
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| If you didn’t have the money you’d cajole and you’d beg
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| There was always lots of tuinol on the old main drag
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| One evening as I was lying down in Leicester Square
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| I was picked up by the coppers and kicked in the balls
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| Between the metal doors at Vine Street I was beaten and mauled
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| And they ruined my good looks for the old main drag
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| In the tube station the old ones who were on the way out
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| Would dribble and vomit and grovel and shout
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| And the coppers would come along and push them about
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| And I wished they could escape from the old main drag
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| And now I am lying here I’ve had too much booze
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| I’ve been spat on and shat on and raped and abused
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| I know that I am dying and I wish I could beg
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| For some money to take me from the old main drag |