Jinny Bingham's Ghost

If you're heading down to Camden Town

Be sure to raise a toast

To the patron saint of the waifs and strays

To Jinny Bingham's ghost

Once she was a fresh-faced lass, from Kentish Town she came

Her people, they were pedlars, Jinny Bingham was her name

With her husband Gypsy George a Camden coach house they did keep

Till they hung him by his neck from Tyburn Tree for stealing sheep

It broke her heart to lose her love when she was just a child

So a man named Derby took the hand of Jinny meek and mild

He was a drinker, not a thinker, daily brought his wife to tears

Until one Camden winter morning, Derby simply disappeared

If you're heading down to Camden Town

Be sure to raise a toast

To the patron saint of the waifs and strays

To Jinny Bingham's ghost

She earned her reputation on those bitter Camden streets

If you'd tarry with the Bingham girl, you'd hold your manhood cheap

But even so the miser Pitcher was the third man on her lips

Till one night they checked her oven, found him burned up to a crisp

They tried her for his murder, thought they'd finally cooked her goose

But even when the next man died, Jinny somehow slipped the noose

He was a fugitive from justice, for love she took him in

But he beat her once to often and the poison did him in

If you're heading down to Camden Town

Be sure to raise a toast

To the patron saint of the waifs and strays

To Jinny Bingham's ghost

The locals didn't like her, false words followed her around

They called her wicked woman, sorceress of some reknown

They swore that on the gravestones of her husbands she'd grown rich

The ribald and the righteous, they knew she was a witch

But the reason she was hated was a simple one indeed

She had kindness for the careless, she took in those in need

The guilty and the gamblers, the harlots and the whores

All knew that Jinny offered sanctuary at her bar

No judgement for the judged, and you can never fall too far

On the day she died, they swore they saw the devil by her side

A mob broke down her door and from her chair her body pried

The tavern is still standing, it's now called the Underworld

And it still offers sanctuary for all broken boys and girls

So let's head on down to Camden Town

And folks, let's raise a toast

To the patron saint of the waifs and strays

To Jinny Bingham's ghost