Poor Child Lyrics. From Musical "The Wild Party"

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Poor Child Lyrics

by . From The Wild Party.

Poor child,
Poor child,
Beautiful and bruised.

Poor child,
Pure child,
Virginal and used.

Her hair,
Her smile,
Her eyes,
So tender

Her heart,
Her soul,
Her life,
So broken.
How much more must she endure?

Poor child,
Poor child,
Sensitive and hard.
One more girl forever scarred.

Pause for a moment Poor child,
Then throw him a glance
Look askance at Burrs
And smile.
Show him how it is, Prisoner of shame He's a dime-store fraud
Maybe then he'll get his She's a second-hand broad!

Just pause for a moment Poor child, And when the trap is set
Then offer a stare I'll be there for my Burrs
Let him watch you He thinks he's hers
Walk on air Pure child But he's in for some news

Share a very quiet Searching for a
rendezvous name.
Light the fuse
And place the bet.
Gently pull him to you Well, What does she
Her hair, think she's doing,
His face, Her smile, doing?
His arms, Her eyes, What does she think
His chest, So tender I am?
I wasn't born yesterday Who does he
Try to be wary and wise Her heart, Hell, Think he's wooing,
His hands, Her soul,
His hips, Her life, wooing?
His legs, So broken. Someone who gives a
Try damn?
She's a sham!
To get lost in his eyes I wasn't born yesterday
How much more She may be pretty
Must she endure? In an hour or two And bat her eyes,
Those heavenly eyes. But soon he'll get wise.
Things will start to unglue.
Pause for a moment Poor child. And Burrs will be waiting Flirt!
Then say your hello.
Watch as Burrs
Begins to blow Poor child. She's a flirt.
Burrs getting angry Generous Then happily I'll go And it's she who'll get
Burrs getting rougher And tight. And bring him to me hurt.
And bring him to me Oh! She's a phony,
Tonight I can She's a sham.
Make him suffer.
Well, we'll see, A stony-eyes lamb.
Show him how it is One more girl Won't we? And she better watch
Maybe then he'll get his. Lost in the night She better watch her stop her step with Burrs,
with Burrs, Or she'll get hers.
Poor child! Or she'll get hers.
Pure child!
Dangerous, divine.
She's a beautiful,
Poor child!

Predictable bore
Dangerous whore
I'll settle the score
And I'll make
I'll take
Her I'll take What's
Mine! Mine! Mine!

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