| You gentlemen can watch while I’m scrubbin' the floor
|
| And I’m scrubbin' the floor while you’re gawking
|
| And maybe once you tipped me and it made you feel swell
|
| In a ratty waterfront in this ratty-old hotel
|
| But you’ll never know to who you’re talkin'
|
| You never know to who you’re talkin'
|
| Suddenly, one night, there’s a scream in the night
|
| And you yelled, «What the hell could that have been?»
|
| And you see me kinda grinnin' while I’m scrubbin'
|
| And you say, «What's she got to grin?»
|
| And the ship, a Black Freighter
|
| With a skull on its masthead will be comin' in
|
| Then you gentlemen can say, «Hey girl, finish the floors
|
| Get upstairs, make the beds, earn your keep here
|
| You toss me your tips and look out at the ships
|
| But I’m countin' your heads
|
| While I make up the beds
|
| 'Cuz there’s nobody gonna sleep here
|
| Tonight, none of you will sleep here
|
| Then, that night, there’s a bang in the night
|
| And you yelled, «Who's that kicking up a row?»
|
| And ya see me kinda starin' out the window
|
| And you say, «What's she got to stare at now?»
|
| And the ship, the Black Freighter
|
| Turns around in the harbor
|
| Shootin' guns from the bow
|
| Then you gentlemen can wipe off the laugh from your face
|
| Every building in town is a flat one
|
| Your whole stinking place will be down to the ground
|
| Only this cheap hotel standin' up safe and sound
|
| And you ask, «Why did they spare that one?»
|
| And you ask, «Why did they spare that one?»
|
| All the night through, with the noise and to-do
|
| You wonder, who’s the person lives up there?
|
| Then you see me steppin' out in the mornin'
|
| Lookin' nice with a ribbon in my hair
|
| And the ship, the Black Freighter
|
| Runs the flag up its masthead
|
| And a cheer rings the air
|
| By noontime the dock
|
| Is a' swarmin' with men
|
| Comin' off of that ghostly freighter
|
| And they’re movin' in the shadows
|
| Where no one can see
|
| And they’re chainin' up people
|
| And bringin' them to me
|
| Askin' me
|
| «Kill them now or later?»
|
| Askin' me
|
| «Kill them now, or later?»
|
| Noon by the clock
|
| And so still on the dock
|
| You can hear the foghorn miles away
|
| In that quiet of death
|
| I’ll say, «Right now
|
| Then they’ll pile up the bodies
|
| And I’ll say, «That'll learn ya»
|
| And the ship
|
| The Black Freighter
|
| Disappears out to sea
|
| And on it is me |