Ah London you're a lady. Laid out before my eyes. Your heart of gold it pulses. Between your scarred up thighs. Your eyes are full of sadness. Red busses skirt your hem. Your head-dress is a ring of lights. But I would not follow them. Your architects were madmen. Your builders sane but drunk. Among your faded jewels. Shine acid house and punk. You are a scarlet lady. Your streets run red with blood. Oh my darling they have used you. And covered you with mud. It was deep down in your womb my love. I drank my quart of sin. While chinamen played cards and draughts. And knocked back mickey finns. Your piss is like a river. Its scent is beer and gin. Your hell is in the summer. And you blossom in the spring. September is your purgatory. Christmas is your heaven. And when the stinking streets of summer. Are washed away by rain. At the dark end of a lonely street. That's where you lose your pain. 'Tis then your eyes light up my love. And sparkle once again.