Crime don't pay, that's wot I tells 'em
If it did, would I be here?
Mixing pipes, wot then I sells 'em
For a pint of rotten beer
Throats you cut to pocket thruppence
Or you slut to cop some sleep
Bash a face for bleedin' tuppence
Pure disgrace to work so cheap
So I say, "Don't be a sinner,
For the price of London Gin.
You can't pay for one square dinner
With the wages of sin."
Sell my soul? Cor love come off it.
Who would buy this sack of skin?
On the whole there's greater profit
Than the wages of sin.
Than the wages of sin.
I've seen girls from gutter families
Trap rich men with fluttery ways,
And they coo
"Cor pass the jam please."
Over nuptial breakfast trays
Over there in bed eleven
Sleeps a bleedin' hypocrite
Spends his days eyes cast to heaven,
Spends his nights amongst this shit.
S'why I say, "Don't take half measures,
Do things right, and dig right in."
For this world has greater treasures
Than the wages of sin.
I get threats, but seldom offers.
If I did, I'd pack it in.
You can't fill that many coffers
With the wages of sin
With the wages of sin
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