Memo From Turner

Didn't I see you down in San Antone on a hot and dusty night

Weren't you eating eggs in Sammy's there when the black man drew the knife

Didn't you drown the Jew in Rampton when he washed his sleeveless shirt

With a Spanish speaking gentleman, the one that we call Kirk

Come now, gentlemen, there must be some mistake

How forgetful I'm becoming, now you fixed your business straight

Weren't you acting down in Broadway back in 1956

You're a faggot, little leather boy with a smaller piece of stick

You're a lashing, smashing hunk of man, your sweat shines sweet and strong

Your organ's working perfectly but there's a part that's screwed on wrong

Ah weren't you at the Coke convention back in 1965

You're the misbred, gray executive that I've seen heavily advertised

You're the man that's careful (. . . Brooklyn...)

You're the man who squats behind the man who works the soft machine

Come now, gentlemen, your love is all I crave

You'll still be in the circus when I'm laughing, laughing in my grave

Yeah when the old men do the fighting and the young men all look on

And the young girls eat their mommy's' meat from tubes of plasticon

So be wary, please, my gentle friends of all the skins you breed

They have a nasty habit, that is they bite the hand that feeds

So remember who you say you are and keep your trousers clean

Boys will be boys and play with toys so be strong with your beast

So Rosie dear, don't you think it's queer, so stop me if you please

The baby's dead, my lady said "You schmucks all work for me"