My father makes book on the corner
My mother makes illicit gin
My sister sells kisses to sailors
My God how the money rolls in
Rolls in, rolls in,
My God how the money rolls in, rolls in
Rolls in, rolls in,
My God how the money rolls in
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My mother's a bawdyhouse keeper
Every night when the evening grows dim
She hangs out a little red lantern
My God how the money rolls in
My cousin's a Harley Street surgeon
With instruments long, short and thin
He only does one operation
My God how the money rolls in.
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