In the earliest days of my shop-lifting 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 and nick with ease

Some shirts and trousers and a few LPs

No one ever stopped me, they didn't seem to care

And sometimes it seems to me, there was no one in there

Then a fine summers day my mate Ted 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, (you're nicked, haha!) the other grabbed my troat

"So we caught you at last", one said with joy

"Been after you some time, my light-fingered boy"

If only I'd remembered my common sense

They captured me red-handedly with evidence

If I go to the manager and say I'm sorry

Maybe he'll forgive me for my youthful folly

"But - but what will the social worker say

If - if I don't come home today?

He'll gimme 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 had 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