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 Alabama Song by Bertolt Brecht
Show me the way to the next whisky bar
Oh, don't ask why, oh, don't ask why Show me the way to the next whisky bar Oh, don't ask why, oh, don't ask why For if we don't find the next whisky bar I tell you we must die I tell you we must die I tell you I tell you I tell you we must die Oh, moon of Alabama We now must say say good-bye We've lost our good old mamma And must have whisky Oh, you know why. Show me the way to the next pretty girl Oh, don't ask why, oh, don't ask why Show me the way to the next pretty girl Oh don't ask why, oh, don't ask why For if we don't find the next pretty girl I tell you we must die I tell you we must die I tell you I tell you I tell you we must die Oh, moon of Alabama We now must say good-bye We've lost our good old mamma And must have a girl Oh, you know why. Show me the way to the next little dollar Oh, don't ask why, oh, don't ask why Show me the way to the next little dollar Oh, don't ask why, oh, don't ask why For if we don't find the next little dollar I tell you we must die I tell you we must die I tell you I tell you I tell you we must die Oh, moon of Alabama We now must say good-bye We've lost our good old mamma And must have dollars Oh, you know why. |
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