She is one of life’s great losers on herself she’s made life tough
Shabby dressed and looking weary from long nights of sleeping rough.
Her hair once dark as raven’s wing is white now white as snow
And her blue eyes once so beautiful have lost their beauty glow
She looks like a living skeleton wan and bent up like a hoop
With fingers locked from arthritis and her shoulders in a droop.
Who’d believe this wizened woman was a beauty on her day
Who’d believe she once bloomed brightly like a blushing rose of May?
She once bloomed like flower of Summer like a lovely Summer rose
But now she’s just a worn out woman dressed in shabby crinkled clothes.
Just a dejected drug addict, hair dishevelled, destitute
Just a faded flower of Summer, a forsaken prostitue
She was chaste and she was comely till she met with drug pushing men
And they got her hooked on hard drugs put her on the road to sin.
She earned lots of money as street walker in her better days gone by
But nowadays the majority of men ignore her so few from her pleasure buy
She says do you want a good time mister for twenty dollars with you I will lie
But will you go to hell you withered crone is the usual reply.
Just a poor and feeble female slowly shuffling down the street
Who’d believe she once bloomed lovely fair as man could wish to meet?
And who’d believe she’s only fifty this woman gaunt and gray
She looks much nearer to ninety than her fifty first birthday?

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