I’m a maker of ballads right pretty
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I write them right here in the street
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You can buy them all over the city
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yours for a penny a sheet
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I’m a word pecker out of the printers
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Out of the dens of Gin Lane
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I’ll write up a scene on a counter
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- confessions and sins in the main, boys
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confessions and sins in the main
|
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Then you’ll find me in Madame Geneva’s
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keeping the demons at bay
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There’s nothing like gin for drowning them in
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but they’ll always be back on a hanging day
|
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They come rattling over the cobbles
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they sit on their coffins of black
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Some are struck dumb, some gabble
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top-heavy on brandy or sack
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The pews are all full of fine fellows
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and the hawker has set up her shop
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As they’re turning them off at the gallows
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she’ll be selling right under the drop, boys
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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
|
|
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Madame Geneva's
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| Mark Knopfler |
