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 How the chimney-sweeper's cry Every blackening church appalls 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 plaques the marriage hearse London calling Big city of fear London calling Can't you hear