ladies of the evening

poor little daughters of the moon

when the sun is dawning

what is as sour as a day in june

for the ladies of the evening

in the morning?

lost is the music of the night

for the daily clamor. noses are red and cheeks are white. where the hell's our glamour?

where the hell's our glamour!

we let the burglars take their snatch

to the shop for pawning. all that we ever aim to catch

is the ladies of the evening in the morning. all night they bring rich men to grief

till they have no cash left. cops can't afford the good roast beef

but we have the hash left. a plum becomes a prune. a joke becomes a pun

and daughters of the moon

must stray beneath the sun. let them earn an honest drachma

while the moral girls are yawning. a policeman's lost

is ladies of the evening

in the morning. so start the day

the police department way

with the ladies of the evening

in the morning.