In the earliest days of my shoplifting career You could safely say I was filled with fear It was nail biting work from the very start But several quick successes soon gave me heart After a while I could pick or nick with ease Some shirts some trousers and a few LPs No-one ever stopped me they didn't seem to care It sometimes seemed to me that there was no-one there. Then a fine summers day my mates and me Set off down the West End on our usual spree Things were as normal for an hour or so Then my nimble hands were a bit too slow Two store detectives made a fast approach One grabbed my jacket and said you're nicked The other grabbed my throat So they caught me at last, one said with joy You'll have to do some time my light fingered boy If only I'd remembered my common sense They captured me red-handed with evidence If I go to the manager and say I'm sorry Maybe he'll forgive me for my youthful folly But what will me social worker say If I don't come home today He'll give me a clout What if they don't let me out I told him I'm on me own Don't they understand I'm from a broken home I'll tell them I'm the product of a broken home, And I always went out on my own Was it too late to say I'd pay And I'll never steal again 'till the end of my days Because I have no friends to call as such Money and possessions I did not have much So I started to steal in order to get by The quickness of the hand deceives the eye Deceives the eye the eye the eye...