Annie Johnson - Slim Dusty, David Kirkpatrick

In a dimly lit bar in the city

You can see her any night of the week

Selling her favours to strangers

Giving them the pleasures they seek

If you look into her eyes you’ll see sorrow

Replacing what used to be pride

You are looking at sweet Annie Johnson

With the ghost of the lady inside

Oh the smiles that are part of her business

Tender words that are part of the trade

Fancy clothes are Annie’s diploma

Small reward for the price she has paid

Satisfaction is Annie’s delusion

But her pleasure is just a charade

No one cares about poor Annie Johnson

No one cares about the lady inside

I recall how we once played together

And the way that her bright arms would shine

As I watched her grow into a lady

And I thought that she’d always be mine

One more round for the boys in the backroom

One more round for the passing of time

As the tears fall for sweet Annie Johnson

And a tear for the lady inside

I remember sweet Annie Johnson

Long before the lady had died