I wander through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man
In every Infant's cry of fear
In every voice, in every ban
The mind-forged manacles I hear

London calling, big city of fear
London calling, can't you hear?

How the Cimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening Church apalls;
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace walls

But most through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot's curse
Blasts the new born infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage hearse

London calling, big city of fear
London calling, can't you hear?