She was poor but she was honest
though she came from humble stock
And her honest heart was beating
Underneath her tattered frock

But the rich man saw her beauty
She knew not his base design
And he took her to a hotel
And bought her a small port wine

It's the same the whole world over
It's the poor what gets the blame
It's the rich what gets the pleasure
Isn't it a blooming shame?

In the rich man's arms she fluttered
Like a bird with a broken wing
But he loved her and he left her
Now she hasn't got no ring

Time has flown - outcast and homeless
In the street she stands and says
While the snowflakes fall around her
'Won't you buy my bootlaces'

It's the same the whole world over
It's the poor what gets the blame
It's the rich what gets the pleasure
Isn't it a blooming shame?

Standing on the bridge at midnight
She says 'Farewell blighted love!'
There's a scream a splash good 'eavens!
What is she a doing of?

Soon they dragged her from the river
Water from her clothes they wrang
They all thought that she was drownded
But the corpse got up and sang:

It's the same the whole world over
It's the poor what gets the blame
It's the rich what gets the pleasure
Isn't it a blooming shame?

She was poor but she was honest
Victim of a rich man's game
First he loved her then he left her
And she lost her maiden name

Then she ran away to London
For to hide her grief and shame
There she met an Army captain
And she lost her name again

It's the same the whole world over
It's the poor what gets the blame
It's the rich what gets the pleasure
Isn't it a blooming shame?

See him riding in a carriage
Past the gutter where she stands
He has made a stylish marriage
While she wrings her ringless hands

See him there at the theatre
In the front row with the best
While the girl that he has ruined
Entertains a sordid guest

It's the same the whole world over
It's the poor what gets the blame
It's the rich what gets the pleasure
Isn't it a blooming shame?

See her on the bridge at midnight
Crying "Farewell blighted love"
Then a scream a splash and Goodness!
What is she a-doing of?

When they dragged her from the river
Water from her clothes they wrung
Though they thought that she was drown
Still her corpse got up and sung:

It's the same the whole world over
It's the poor what gets the blame
It's the rich what gets the pleasure
Isn't it a blooming shame? Lyrics from a song in Public Domain