My screenplay’s on the block. My Tuscan villa’s in hock. To Mister Pearly Jim. My wife and kids have scrammed. They say my phone is jammed. By Mister Pearly Jim. He dresses up in rags. He’s mister money bags. They call him Pearly Jim. He’ll show you Paradise. At least some place quite nice. They call him Pearly Jim. Why did you wait so long?. Can you help him sing his song?. ‘Alms for the poor. Alms for the poor’. We need ketchup on our bangers and mash. This self-denial brings us out in a rash. I’m rolling dice for gin. I’m getting sliced too thin. By Mister Pearly Jim. I mortgaged my des. res. He needs a boost he says. Does Mister Pearly Jim. He’s got a compound down. The balmy side of town. The guards’ll give you shits. He’s got a pearly suit. For every new recruit. You’ll feel so thrilled to bits. When he grits that pearly smile. Will you go that extra mile?. ‘Alms for the poor. Alms for the poor’. Chairman Mao’s got a whole lot of thoughts. And R.D.Laing’s got me tied up in knots. Does your conscience ever scream. Between the chaos and the dream. ‘Alms for the poor. Alms for the poor’. To save time just pay us here on the street. The whole universe will be our receipt