Crime don't pay, that's wot 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 thruppence

Or 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's greater profit

Than the wages of sin.

Than the wages of sin.

I've seen girls from gutter families

Trap rich men with fluttery 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 heaven,

Spends his nights amongst this shit.

S'why I say, "Don't take half measures,

Do things right, and dig right in."

For this world has 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 that many coffers

With the wages of sin

With the wages of sin