Lady Scotch that Snake

Fanny—
I guess you wonder why I'm here
Togged up like Lady Gwinevere
But control your desire to curse
Or I'll sing you something worse
The tale I'll tell you you've heard before
'Bout a worthy Scottish thane to whom I'm squaw
I'm a nasty bit of work
And I got myself tangled up with a jerk
A guy named McBeth
Mixed up in a death
Who said that crime don't pay
Take it away!

That which made them drunk hath made me bold
It's a royal session and I won't be told
It's adversity, it's calamity, it's catastrophe!

The multitudinous seas incarnadine
But I hear a knocking somewhere down the line
At the west gate, at the east gate, at the south gate.

Most times like this I have a side kick who'll do all the work
But for this job the guy decided to shirk
If you've ever heard alarms of the Royal Duncan and the Thane of Glamis
It's a mystery, it's a history
It's a flagrant tale of a vagrant male
It's disruption, it's destruction
Of an escutcheon.

Unhappy Day

We are the littlemen;
We're not used to shocks;
We work in offices,
The schools and the docks; Unhappy day
When Sydney become our P.M.

We are the average man,
The man on the street;
No matter how we try,
We just can't make ends meet;
Unhappy day,
When Sydney became our P.M.

How we remember,
November, '54'
When Sydney promised us
Our pay would be more,
Unhappy etc . . .

But we soon realised,
His stories were tall,
'Cause now it seems to us that
We don't get paid at all;
Unhappy . . . etc . . .

We'd like to strike,
But we wouldn't have a show;
We haven't got the time
And we haven't got the dough,
Unhappy . . . etc . . .

Now Sydney's boss,
And its gone to his head;
So we've decided that
We might as well be dead;
Unhappy day,
When Sydney became our P.M.