Parody of “Pirate Jenny”, words and music by
Bertolt Brecht
and
Kurt Weill
For
more information
and other parodies, see
www.songworm.com
Reprinted from
Songworm 1
Parody lyrics ©3/16/87 by Bob Kanefsky. All rights reserved. The copyright of the original lyrics and music remain with the holder(s) of the original copyright.
You gentlemen can watch while I vacuum the floor,
And I vacuum the floor while you’re gawkin’.
And you once gave me a raise, and it made you feel good,
In this high tech little upstart in this high tech neighborhood.
But you never know to who you’re talkin’.
No, you never know to who you’re talkin’.
Suddenly one night there’s a scream of delight
As you yell “We’ll be rich men in a year!”
And you see me kinda starin’ at your drawings.
And you say, “What’s she got to stare at here?”
And the chip,
Your invention,
And your one, lousy product —
Its completion is near.
Then you gentlemen can say, “Hey, girl, finish the floor,
Get upstairs, straighten up, earn your wages.”
You work on your chips, a scowl on your lips,
But I’m hidin’ my smiles as I tidy your files.
’Cause I know you never count the pages.
Not once did you count the pages.
Then, next week, there’s reports of a leak,
And you ask “Who’s this, stealing our design?”
And you hear me kinda cackle while I’m dustin’.
And you sneer, “That girl has lost her mind!”
And the chip
Has been stolen!
It’s well into production
Out on someone’s fab line.
And you gentlemen can wipe the laugh off your faces.
The monopoly is mine, on laughter.
Your whole stinkin’ company’s destroyed by your slip,
And it’s bought up by a bigger one: the one who stole your chip.
And you ask, “What could they be after?”
And you ask, “What could they be after?”
All day through there’s a corporate review,
And you wonder “What the hell have they got planned?”
And you see me comin’ in the next morning,
Looking nice, with a briefcase in my hand.
And the chip
That was stolen
Makes its way to the market,
And it’s sweeping the land.
The new corporate bosses review personnel
To be sure that they still require ’em.
They’re quotin’ regulations they won’t let you see.
They’re takin’ engineers and they’re bringin’ ’em to me.
Asking me, “Lay ’em off, or fire ’em?”
Asking me! “Lay ’em off, or fire ’em?”
Smoothly and quick, understanding will click
In your sharp little minds right away.
In the quiet of death, I’ll say:
“Fire ’em!!”
And you’ll type your resignations.
And I’ll say, “There! That’ll learn ya!”
And the chip
Makes six million
For the new corporation,
Whose owner ... is me!