| You do not do, you do not do
|
| In which I have lived like a foot
|
| For thirty years, poor and white
|
| Barely daring to breathe or Achoo
|
| Daddy, I have had to kill you
|
| You died before I had time--
|
| Marble-heavy, a bag full of God
|
| Ghastly statue with one gray toe
|
| Big as a Frisco seal
|
| And a head in the freakish Atlantic
|
| Where it pours bean green over blue
|
| In the waters off beautiful Nauset
|
| I used to pray to recover you
|
| Ach, du
|
| In the German tongue, in the Polish town
|
| Scraped flat by the roller
|
| Of wars, wars, wars
|
| But the name of the town is common
|
| Says there are a dozen or two
|
| So I never could tell where you
|
| Put your foot, your root
|
| I never could talk to you
|
| The tongue stuck in my jaw
|
| It stuck in a barb wire snare
|
| Ich, ich, ich, ich
|
| I could hardly speak
|
| I thought every German was you
|
| And the language obscene
|
| An engine, an engine
|
| Chuffing me off like a Jew
|
| A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen
|
| I began to talk like a Jew
|
| I think I may well be a Jew
|
| The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
|
| Are not very pure or true
|
| With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck
|
| And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
|
| I may be a bit of a Jew
|
| I have always been scared of you
|
| With your Luftwaffe, your
|
| gobbledygoo
|
| And your neat mustache
|
| And your Aryan eye, bright blue
|
| Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You--
|
| Not God but a swastika
|
| So black no sky could squeak through
|
| Every woman adores a Fascist
|
| The boot in the face, the brute
|
| Brute heart of a brute like you
|
| You stand at the blackboard, daddy
|
| In the picture I have of you
|
| A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
|
| But no less a devil for that, no not
|
| Any less the black man who
|
| Bit my pretty red heart in two
|
| I was ten when they buried you
|
| At twenty I tried to die
|
| And get back, back, back to you
|
| I thought even the bones would do
|
| But they pulled me out of the sack
|
| And they stuck me together with glue
|
| And then I knew what to do
|
| I made a model of you
|
| A man in black with a Meinkampf look
|
| And a love of the rack and the screw
|
| And I said I do, I do
|
| So daddy, I’m finally through
|
| The black telephone’s off at the root
|
| The voices just can’t worm through
|
| If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two--
|
| The vampire who said he was you
|
| And drank my blood for a year
|
| Seven years, if you want to know
|
| Daddy, you can lie back now
|
| There’s a stake in your fat black heart
|
| And the villagers never liked you
|
| They are dancing and stamping on you
|
| They always knew it was you
|
| Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through |