There's a place your mother goes When everybody else is soundly sleeping Through the lights of beacon street And if you listen, you can hear her weeping She's weeping, 'cause the gentlemen are calling And the snow is softly falling on her petticoats And she's standing in the harbour And she's waiting for the sailors in the jolly boat See how they approach With dirty hands and trousers torn they grapple Till she's safe within their keeping A gag is placed between her lips To keep her sorry tongue from any speaking Or screaming and they row her out to packets where The sailor's sorry racket calls for maidenhead And she's scarce above the gunwales When her clothes fall to a bundle And she's laid in bed on the upper deck And so she goes from ship to ship Her ankles clasped, her arms so rudely pinioned Till at last she's satisfied the lot of the Marina's teeming minions and their opinions And they tell her not to say a thing to cousin Kindred, kith or kin or she'll end up dead And they throw her dirty dollars And return her to the habor where she goes to bed And this is how you're fed So be kind to your mother, though she may seem An awful bother and the next time she tries to feed you Collard greens, remember what she does when you're asleep © OSTEROZHNA! MUSIC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com