Molly.

There she stands on gasoline alley.
Her punters call her do anything molly.
Her skirt shorter than a chihuahua dog.
Her aging body for pleasure she does flog.
Every night she’s on the game.
From the poor part of town she came.
Sells her soul to make some money.
So she can feed her kids on milk and honey.
Sometimes she comes home sore and bruised.
She knows that she is only being used.
But every night she stands on gasoline alley.
The one and only do anything molly.