She wanders round the streets at night,
Trying to make her money,
Stopping cars, leaning in,
Looking for business honey?

Some refuse and some say yeah,
She does what she knows right,
Takes the cash, says goodbye,
Then walks back to the night,

Every night for seventeen years
She's walked the street of dread,
She is getting so very tired now,
But she has to earn the bread,

Life had not been good to her,
Neither had her man,
With kids to support and feed and clothe,
She's done all that she can,

No one knows her secret life,
No one ever asked,
No one asked about future things,
And none asked about her past,

This lovely lady looks tired and old,
Her life was not unfurled,
What had happened to make her take,
The oldest job in the world.