Princess Puffer:
Crime don't pay that's what I tells 'em
If it did, would I be here mixing pipes
Wot then I sells 'em for a pint of rotten beer?
Throats you cut to pocket tuppence
Then you slut to cop some sleep
Bash a face for bleedin' tuppence
pure disgrace to work so cheap

So I say, don't be a sinner for the price of London gin
You can't pay for one square dinner with the wages of sin
Sell my soul? 'Cor love, come off it
Who would buy this sack of skin?
On the whole, there ain't much profit in the wages of sin
I've seen girls from gutter fam'lies trap
rich men with flutt'ry ways
And they coo, "Cor, pass the jam please,"
Over nuptial breakfast trays
Over there in bed eleven sleeps a bleedin' hypocrite
Spends his days eyes cast to 'eaven;
Spends his nights among this sh

S' why I say, don't take half-measures
Do things right and dig right in
In this world, there's greater treasures
than the wages of sin
I get threats, but seldom offers. If I did
I'd pack it in
You can't fill too many coffers with the wages of sin