Crash-Barrier Waltzer

And here slip I dragging one foot in the gutter
In the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap radios
And there sits she - no bed, no bread, no butter
On a double yellow line where she can park anytime
Old Lady Grey, crash-barrier waltzer
Some only son's mother - Baker Street casualty
Oh, Mister Policeman, blue shirt ballet master
Feet in sticking plaster, move the old lady on
Strange pas-de-deux, his Romeo to her Juliet
Her sleeping draught, his poisoned regret
No drunken bums allowed
To sleep here in the crowded emptiness
Oh, officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel
I'll pay the bill and make her well
Like hell you bloody will, no do-good over kill
We must teach them to be still more independent