| As the moon shines over Soho
|
| The thieves all settle down
|
| And a corpse is floating downstream
|
| Well I wonder, how it drowned
|
| And the moon shines on a body
|
| And that body oozes blood;
|
| Is it Macky, with his switchblade
|
| Or is it an act of God?
|
| Well, the moon shines over Shoreditch
|
| And the bells of bow did shine
|
| And an old dog sucks the marrow from a bone
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| The human kind
|
| Well, the moon shines on a corpse
|
| And a body is unearthed;
|
| Was it Macky, with his switchblade
|
| Or was plague or cholera the curse?
|
| Well, the moon shines in the gutter
|
| And a rich man’s stomach floats
|
| And the rich man’s purse is empty
|
| Was it Macky that made him croak?
|
| As the moon shines over Soho
|
| And the thieves all settle down
|
| And a corpse is floating downstream
|
| Well I wonder, how it drowned
|
| Well it’s… Macky
|
| Back in town |