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
by: José Duarte
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