She's so strange And she wore a black moustache And pilfered all the petty cash She went to Birmingham She'll soon be in the can
She's so cruel And she knew what just what to do And while the cats were all sniffing glue They played their silly games And now they'll take the blame
What she'd done And she didn't know quite what she did And they told her that she better had So now she starts to cry Without a reason why
She's so poor And only now she's looking back Sees her story on a paperback What will become of her There's not much left for herTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.