There goes a man who’s won his spurs in battle
The butcher, he. And all the others, cattle.
The cocky sod! No decent place lets him in.
Who does him down, that’s done the lot? The women.
Want it or not, he can’t ignore that call.
Sexual obsession has him ini t s thrall.
He doesn’t read the Bible. He sniggers at the law
Sets out to be an utter egoist
And knows a woman’s skirts are what he must resist
So when a woman calls he locks his door
So far, so good, but what’s the future brewing?
As soon as night falls he’ll be up and doing.
Thus many a man watched men die in confusion:
A mighty genius, stuck on prostitution!
The watchers claimed their urges were exhausted
But when they died who paid the funeral? Whores did.
Want it or not, they can’t ignore that call.
Sexual obsession has them in its thrall.
Some fall back on the Bible. Some stick to the law
Some turn to Christ and some turn anarchist.
At lunch you pick the best wine on the list
Then meditate till half-past four.
At tea: what high ideals you are pursuing!
Then soon as night falls you’ll be up and doing.
Related to nothing except I heard something about Brecht today and it reminded me of this fabulous song he wrote with Weill for the Threepenny Opera. And Ute Lemper is wonderful.
Regular service will return at some point.