Ladies Of The Evening

Poor little daughters of the moon

When the sun is dawning

What is as sour as a day in June

For the ladies of the evening in the morning

Lost is the music of the night

For the daily clamor

Noses are red and cheeks are white

Where the hell's our glamor?

Where the hell's our glamor?

We'll let the burglars take their snatch

To the shop for pawning

All that we ever aim to catch

Is the ladies of the evening in the morning

All night they bring rich men to grief

Till they have no cash left

Cops can't afford the good roast beef

But we have the hash left

A plum becomes a prune

A joke becomes a pun

And daughters of the moon

Must fade beneath the sun

Let them earn an honest drachma

While the moral girls are yawning

A policeman's lot is ladies of the evening in the morning

So start the day

The police department way

With the ladies of the evening in the morning