What’s happened to the River Thames,
It once used to be clean,
A pleasure to your eye,
It made your faces beam.

Now look at all the filth,
That lay upon the water,
Which rolls on down into the sea,
To pollute it just for your son and daughter.

People come from other places,
Foreign tongues all strange faces,
They’ve come to see this great big city,
For them it is so very pretty.

But when they get down by the Thames,
And see the dirt and filth,
They can’t believe that this goes on,
Around the idle rich.

But if they near the temple,
Then they are bound to see,
Upon a wall blankets and coats,
And tramps sitting down on the floor.

First thing in the morning,
They’re lining up at the toilet door,
So they can’t get away from the Thames,
It runs through the heart of the town.

No matter where they go,
The river will still be around,
With the driftwood and the muck,
Which the people do chuck.

To add to the stench a bit more,
Yet old Father Thames will always be proud,
To carry the boats that take folk around,
Viewing the city they’re having a rest.

He doesn’t let you down when put to the test,
Yet for all of the dirt that’s thrown on the water,
Old River Thames still does what it ought too,
Flowing along to bring us delight every morning and night.