| A salesman’s life is a tale of woe
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| He’s despised in every place
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| The rain seeps through his overcoat
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| And the door’s slammed in his face
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| A salesman needs the faith of saints
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| His position’s much the same
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| He’s crucified by overheads
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| With no underdogs to blame
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| Here I have detergent
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| These boxes are my life
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| I flog them round from town to town
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| To feed my son and wife
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| Buy this fine detergent
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| How much do you require
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| It cleans away impurities
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| And stills the fleshly fires
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| I kiss my wife in the morning light
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| As I lift the beetle boot
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| Stack my boxes row on row
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| Then I hit the Danube route
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| Augsburg’s full of scallywags
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| Trying on the ancient line
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| Saying a salesman called just yesterday
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| And his face looked just like mine
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| Here I have detergent
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| These boxes are my life
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| I flog them round from town to town
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| To feed my son and wife
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| Buy this fine detergent
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| It s everything you need
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| It’s friendship for the lonely ones
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| For the godless it’s a creed
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| A handsome young evangelist
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| Had sacred words to speak
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| He thought God’s will appealed to me
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| I was studying his technique
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| He warned me of the enemy
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| With a twinkle in his eye
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| Then I see to my eternal shame
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| My rival in disguise
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| Here I have detergent
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| These boxes are my life
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| I flog them round from town to town
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| To feed my son and wife
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| Buy this fine detergent
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| Biologically prepared
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| To cleanse the crime from criminals
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| The answer to our prayers
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| A self-made man’s a can of worms
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| His soul’s a blood-stained sheet
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| But he struggles to redeem himself
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| As he sells from street to street
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| Members of the jury
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| I’ve just one thing left to add
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| The low is by its nature good
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| But a salesman must be bad
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| Here I hove detergent
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| These boxes are my life
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| I flog them round from town to town
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| To feed my son and wife
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| Buy this fine detergent
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| Salvation comes to those
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| Who cleanse their souls as white as white
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| In the washtub with their clothes
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| Here I have detergent
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| It’ll be the death of me
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| Then I’ll flog these boxes
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| Round the length and breadth of eternity
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| Me and my detergent
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| We’re insured for all we’re worth
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| And while we’re cleaned out in purgatory
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| They’ll be filthy rich on earth |