With her hair up in his fingers,
She hold the law in her hands.
The fish and chips smell lingers.
Under amber street lamps,
Falls silent through the lamp light.
The moistness of the damp night
Although she's only 14,
She really knows her courting.
And up the railway sidings, There's him and her. They're lying.
Hand in hand, they whisper,
"You're my Mrs." "I'm your Mr."
The moon was white and virgin,
And she was on the turning.
When best friends were so little?
Remember your first nibble. They really trooped the colours
And all her mates would giggle,
When walking with each other.
As ladyWhen he'd done his mother's meter.
All along the high street,
They'd spalsh out on an ice cream. He'd sometimes really treat her,
Well, he went off to Borstal.
Cause she was ill and she would cry.
He said that he was forced to
Her mother sometimes hit her.
Rob the flats of hiEach morning, she got sicker.
If she'd have known the story,
She would have been so sorry. He received a letter and admitted it,
There was nothing else to do but get rid of it.
Lonely in his dormitory, he'd sit and stare.
Was this for real? And was it really fair? Summer came, so they went
Down to the coast in his tent.
She cooked upon his primer
And sampled local cider.
To be perhaps the one who
She told him in his rucksack,
"I think I want that chance back
Will forever love you.
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