I wander through each chartered street
Near where the chartered Thames does flow
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe
In every cry of every man
In every infant's cry of fear
In every voice, in every ban
The mind-forged manacles I hear
How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appalls
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace walls
But most through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new born infant's tear
And blights with plaques the marriage hearse
London calling
Big city of fear
London calling
Can't you hear
Writer(s): Albers, Ralf
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