There weren't no royal road ter make a name,
Leastways when I was young,
I 'ad ter climb up the ladder of shame,
Right from the bottomest rung.
Perfeshnals now 'as a poor look-out,
They gits no chance for to show no skill!
I do know what I'm talkin' about,
I 'ave been 'through the mill'.

Chorus: It's inexperience as I'm so down on,
A tryin' noo fakes, just 'cos they're nooer,
The cuss of hev'ry perfession is
The bloomin' hamatoor!

There ain't no glory in thievin' now,
The good old times is gorn;
It's swells terday, by the sweat o' their brow,
Our docks and 'jugs' adorn!
They busts a bank, then they does a guy,
They may 'ave pals in the 'Ouse o' Lords;
But if they can't prove a halibi,
They're 'bunce' for Madame Toosords.

Chorus: Shades of Dooval and bold Richard Turpin,
Their pluck's a sham an' their sperrit's poor;
I takes a back seat an' 'e walks in,
The bloomin' hamatoor!

Now, once a prig! why it's allus a prig!
That's wot I used ter say,
I loves a job if it's reg'lar big,
But where's the craft terday?
It ain't a craft, it's a mug's pursoot!
My own kid's in a situation!
Since Scotland Yard tried the silent boot,
It's lost it's fascination!

Chorus: Coppers an' beaks hearns a honest livin',
There ain't no bribin' 'em, rich or poor!
If there is one thing I am agin,
It is a hamatoor!
Written and composed by Albert Chevalier & Bond Andrews
Performed by Albert Chevalier (1861-1923)
From Music Hall Lyrics Collection
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