Lyrics

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.

CHORUS: Rolls in, rolls in, My God how the money rolls in, rolls in, Rolls in, rolls in, My God how the money rolls in.

My mother’s a bawdy house keeper, Each 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, sharp, and thin, He only does one operation, My God how the money rolls in.

Uncle Joe is a registered plumber, His business in holes and in tin, He’ll plug up your hole for a tenner, My God how the money rolls in.

My brother’s a slum missionary, He saves fallen women from sin, He’ll save you a blonde for a dollar, My God how the money rolls in.

My Grandad sells cheap prophylactics, He punctures the teats with a pin, For Grandma gets rich off abortions, My God how the money rolls in.

My sister’s a barmaid in Sydney, For a shilling she’ll strip to the skin, She’s stripping from morning till midnight, My God how the money rolls in.

My aunt keeps a girl’s seminary, Teaching young girls to begin, She doesn’t say where they will finish, My God how the money rolls in.

I’ve shares in the very best companies, In tramways, tobacco, and tin, And brothels in Rio de Janeiro, My God how the money rolls in.

My brother Jim whittles out candles, From wax that is exceptionally soft, He says it will come in real handy, If ever his business falls off.

My father pimps ma on the corner, My brother makes juniper gin, My sister sells love for a living, My God how the money rolls in.

My mother’s a bawdy-house keeper, Each night she rents out sister’s quim, She hangs a red light in our doorway, My God how the money rolls in.

My brother hawks ass in the alley, I do wish he wouldn’t hawk mine, It leaves me with bad constipation, My God, how the money rolls in.