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
London calling, big city of fear
London calling, can't you hear?
How the Cimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening Church apalls;
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 plagues the marriage hearse
London calling, big city of fear
London calling, can't you hear?
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