| Lyrics: | Oh, the poor shark,
Yes, the sweet shark,
It has big teeth
Buried deep.
Then
there's Macheath
With his big knife,
But it's hidden
In his slip.
And this same
shark,
This poor sweet shark,
It sheds red blood
When it bleeds.
Mackie Big
Knife
Wears a white glove,
Pure in word and
Pure in deed.
Sunday
morning
Lovely blue sky,
There's a corpse stretched
On the Strand.
Who's the
man cruisin'
The corner ?
Well, it's Mackie,
Knife in hand.
Jenny
Towler
Poor wee Jenny,
There they found her
Knife in breast.
Mackie's
wandering
On the West Pier
Hoping only
For the best.
Mind, that fire
burnt
All through Soho.
Seven kids dead
One old flower.
Hey there,
Mackie,
How is she cuttin' ?
Have another,
Hold your hour.
And those sweet
babes
Under sixteen
Story goes that
Black and blue
For the price of
One
good screwing
Mackie, Mackie,
How could you ?
For the price of
One good
screwing
Mackie, Mackie,
How could you ? |
