| You gentlemen can gawk while I’m scrubbing the floors
|
| And I’m scrubbing the floors while you’re gawking
|
| And maybe once you tipped me and it made you fell swell
|
| In this ratty waterfront, in this ratty hotel
|
| But you never know to whom you’re talking
|
| You never guess to whom you’re talking
|
| Suddenly one night there’s a scream in the night
|
| And a yell: what the hell is that din
|
| And you see me kind of grinning while I’m scrubbing
|
| And you’ll say: what’s she got to grin?
|
| And the ship, the black freighter
|
| With the skull at the masthead
|
| Sails into the bay
|
| Then you gentlemen can say: hey girl, scrub the floors
|
| Make the beds, get up the stairs, earn you keep here
|
| And you pass out the tips as you look out at the ships
|
| But I’m counting up heads as I’m making up beds
|
| 'cause tonight none of you will sleep here
|
| Tonight none of you will sleep here
|
| Then on that night there’s a banging in the night
|
| And you yell: what the hell is that row
|
| And you see me kind of staring out the window
|
| And you’ll say: what she got to stare at now?
|
| And the ship, the black freighter
|
| With fifty long cannons
|
| Opens fire on the town
|
| Then you gentlemen can wipe all the grins off your face
|
| Every building in the town is a flat one
|
| The whole stinking place will be down to the ground
|
| Only this cheap hotel will be standing safe and sound
|
| And you say: why do they spare that one?
|
| You say: why do they spare that one?
|
| Then all night through with a noise and to-do
|
| You’ll wonder who’s the person lives up there
|
| And you see me stepping out into the morning
|
| Looking nice with a ribbon in my hair
|
| And the ship, the black freighter
|
| Runs a flag up her masthead
|
| And cheer rings the air
|
| Then just before noon there’ll be hundreds of men
|
| Coming up off that ghostly freighter
|
| And they’re moving in the shadows where no-one can see
|
| And they’re chaining up the people and they’re bringing them to me
|
| Asking me: kill them now or later?
|
| Asking me: kill them now or later?
|
| Noon on the clock and so still on the dock
|
| You could hear a foghorn miles away
|
| In the quiet of death I’ll say: kill 'em now
|
| And they’ll pile up the bodies and I’ll say: hoopla!
|
| And the ship, the black freighter
|
| Sails away out to sea
|
| And on it is me |