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"