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