Oh, the shark has pretty teeth, And he shows them red and white. Just a jack-knife has MacHeath, And he keeps it out of sight.
When the shark bites with his teeth, Scarlet billows start to spread. Fancy gloves, though, wears MacHeath, So there’s not a trace of red.
On a sweet blue Sunday morning, Lies a dead man, once in life. And someone goes ‘round the corner and his name is Mack the Knife!
Some are children of the darkness, Others walk out in the sun. You can see those sons of daylight. Those at night are seen by none.
BERTOLT BRECHT
