She left her school for the factory
   From pocket money to a salary,
   From a pac-a-mac to a compact case
   And every morning she inspects her face.
   She discovers pulling pints in pubs
   That the good looks will never cover up for
   Her dumbness in taking the stock
   Sees her reflection in a butcher's shop.
   She finds it all quite rare
   That her meat's all vanity fair.
  
   She has her eyes on medallion men
   Who get her home on the dot at ten,
   She combs her hair when she gets excused
   The deal she wants always ends up screwed.
   Paints her nails on the bathroom scales
   Gargles her breath like a landed whale,
   Her beauty is as deep as her skin
   Keeps her eyebrows in a tobacco tin.
   She poses foot on the chair
   Coconut shy but vanity fair.
  
   In her vanity case her compact case
   In her compact case her eyes,
   Not bad for a sister
   But her vanity's fair and her sense of humour's dry.
   She comes home late with another screw loose
   She swears to have had just a pineapple juice,
   Falls asleep fully clothed in her bed
   With her makeup remover by her head.
   And she might not be all there
   But her dream's all vanity fair.