When I first came to London I was only sixteen. With a fiver in my pocket and my ole dancing bag. I went down to the dilly to check out the scene. And I soon ended up on the old main drag. There the he-males and the she-males paraded in style. And the old man with the money would flash you a smile. In the dark of an alley you'd work for a fiver. For a swift one off the wrist down on the old main drag. In the cold winter nights the old town it was chill. But there were boys in the cafes who'd give you cheap pills. If you didn't have the money you'd cajole or you'd beg. There was always lots of tuinol on the old main drag. One evening as I was lying down by Leicester Square. I was picked up by the coppers and kicked in the balls. Between the metal doors at Vine Street I was beaten and mauled. And they ruined my good looks for the old main drag. In the tube station the old ones who were on the way out. Would dribble and vomit and grovel and shout. And the coppers would come along and push them about. And I wished I could escape from the old main drag. And now I'm lying here I've had too much booze. I've been shat on and spat on and raped and abused. I know that I am dying and I wish I could beg. For some money to take me from the old main drag.