Tell them that the low-wage payers
Don’t help grow no angel wings.
Hush, now, dearie, come on, stop ’er,
Cut the weeps and be a sport,
Fix your hair, here comes a copper
For to take us into court.
See the judge, bet he’s been stayin’
Out all night—he’s got the jerks;
We’re up now—what’s that he’s sayin’?
Holy Gee, we got the works!