By K Weill, trans by John Willett
The Ballad of Mack The Knife
See the shark has teeth like razors
All can read his open face
And Macheath has got a knife, but
Not in such an obvious place
See the shark, How red his fins are
As he slashes at his prey
Mac the Knife wears white kid gloves which
Give the minimum away
By the Thames turbid waters,
Men abruptly tumble down
Is it plague, or is it cholera?
Or a sign Macheath's in town?
On a beautiful blue Sunday,
See a corpse stretched on the Strand
See a man dodge around the corner...
Mackie's friend's will understand.
And the ghastly fire in Soho,
Seven children at a go
In the crowd stands Mac the knife, but
He's not asked and doesn't know