My father makes book on the corner.
My mother makes second-hand gin.
My sister makes love for a dollar.
My God, how the money rolls in!

My mother's a bawdy house keeper.
Every night when the evening grows dim.
She hangs out a little red lantern.
My God, how the money rolls in!

My grandma makes pink prophylactics.
She punctures the end with a pin.
My grandpa does bootleg abortions.
My God, how the money rolls in!

My brother's a street-corner preacher.
He saves little girlies from sin.
He'll save you a blonde for five dollars.
My God, how the money rolls in!

My sister's a Harley Street surgeon.
With instruments long, sharp and thin.
She only knows one operation.
My God, how the money rolls in!