Last year's troubles
Last year's troubles
Last year's troubles they're so old-fashioned
The robber on the highway, the pirate on the seas
Maybe it's the clothing that's so entertaining
The earrings and the swashbuckling blouses that please
Here we have heroes of times that have passed now
But nobody these days has that kind of chin
Over there the petticoats of ladies of virtue
You can hardly tell them from the petticoats of sin
Last year's troubles
Last year's troubles
Look at all the waifs of Dickensian England
Why is it their suffering is more picturesque?
Must be cause their rags are so very Victorian
The ones here at home just don't give it their best
Last year's troubles they shine up so pretty
They gleam with a luster they don't have today
Here it's just dirty and violent and troubling
Etcetera
Last year's troubles
Last year's troubles
Trouble is still trouble and evil still evil
Sometimes we wonder is it more now or less?
If we had a tool or could tally the handfuls
Measure for measure it's the same would be my guess
Last year's troubles
Last year's troubles
Last year's troubles
Last year's troubles