Oh Rosie you ply your trade upon the street
I walk down every day of the week.
Dressed up in luminous anorak,
Your favourite charity stamped across your back.
But oh how fickle how changing is your taste.
One day it’s Oxfam, next it’s Christian Aid
And for a moment shoppers stop
En-captivated by your eyes …
Their heart beats just a little faster
As you tell them of disaster
And with a single tear they’re hooked
Involuntarily reaching for their cheque book.
Oh Rosie now I am a member
Of Greenpeace, Age Concern and Shelter
I have no reason now to stop and talk
And simply must continue on my walk.