Mrs. Rita

Oh kind Mrs. Rita I never will tell

The way that you keep us poor girls here in hell

And I never will sneak to the News of the World

Oh kind Mrs. Rita

Sincere Mrs. Rita

A friend to a stranger, a ma to a girl

With the chalking and cutting and stitching and such

We earn what we earn and it isn’t too much

Enough to keep half a step higher than trash

Oh kind Mrs. Rita

Sincere Mrs. Rita

So loose with the purse strings, so free with the cash

Some guardian angel take pity and sweep me away

Seems I work every hour God sends in a day

To line the pockets of Rita O’Connor

To line the pockets of Rita O’Connor

Oh you can’t call it stealing, more helping yourself

If the odd pair of nylons should fall off the shelf

And fall into somebody’s handbag let’s say

Oh kind Mrs. Rita

Sincere Mrs. Rita

It sort of makes up for the pitiful pay

Oh kind Mrs. Rita

Sincere Mrs. Rita

God keep and preserve you, we’ll love you always