| Oh the shark has, pretty teeth, baby
|
| And it shows them pearly white
|
| Just a jackknife, has MacHeath, dear
|
| And he keeps it, out of sight
|
| When the shark bites with his teeth, baby
|
| Scarlet billows start to spread
|
| Fancy gloves, though, wears MacHeath, dear
|
| So there’s not, a trace of red
|
| On the sidewalk, Sunday morning
|
| Lies a body oozin' life
|
| Someones sneakin' 'round the corner
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| Is that someone, Mack the Knife?
|
| From a tugboat, by the river
|
| A cement bags drooppin' down
|
| The cement’s just, for the weight, dear
|
| Bet you Mackys back in town
|
| The cement’s just, for the weight, dear
|
| Bet you Mackys back in tow-ow-own |