I met her on a Sunday, we went out very seldom,

she said she worked the night shift, at a factory in Kew

She made lots of money, and had a nice apartment,

but I could never visit, her Father lived there too

He didn't like his daughter dating anybody

I swallowed all this story, believing it was true

Then I felt a big galah, I passed her photo round the bar

Old Macca said "haha, She's a whore...she's a whore" B4

Then Tommy said he knew it, and so did Johnny Blewitt

it seemed that every guy there in the pub knew her real trade

They said she wasn't cheap though, but Billy said she's worth it

he always had her number, in case he felt like getting laid

I went driving through the rain, I would force her to explain

and so I started bashing on her door...on her door

The door flung open quickly, some feller stood there naked

he looked a little pissed off, so this must be her Dad

He said he'd paid an hour, I'd have to come back later

and then I saw my girlfriend, and I got rather mad

I swore myself off women, that's why I never married

I couldn't ever trust them, she really broke my heart

I thought she was my dumpling, my apple pie and custard

my little chocolate éclair - but she was just a tart

She was lying on the bed and I saw the clothes were shed

they were strewn all round the room

So be careful where you fly, and assume that it's a lie

Coz she might be dinki-di but make sure...but make sure

Mate make sure

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