Mack The Knife Lyrics - Sting

Oh, the shark has pretty teeth dear 

And he shows 'em, pearly white 

Just a jack knife has Macheath dear 

And he keeps it way out of sight 

When that shark bites with his teeth, dear 

Scarlet billows begin to spread 

Fancy gloves though has Macheath dear 

So there's never, never a trace of red 

On the sidewalk, one Sunday morning 

Lies a body, oozin' life 

Someone's sneaking 'round the corner 

Could that someone be Mack the Knife 

From a tugboat, on the river going slow 

A cement bag is dropping on down 

You know that cement is for the weight dear 

You can make a large bet Mackie's back in town 

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My man Louis Miller, he split the scene babe 

After drawing out all the bread from his stash 

Now Macheath spends like a sailor 

Do you suppose our boy, he's done something rash 

Old Satchmo, Louis Armstrong, Bobby Darrin 

Did this song nice, Lady Ella too 

They all sang it, with so much feeling 

That Old Blue Eyes, he ain't gonna add nothing new 

But with his big band, jumping behind me 

Swinging hard, Jack, I now I can't lose 

When I tell you, all about Mack the Knife babe 

It's an offer, you can never refuse 

We got Patrick Williams, Bill Miller playing that piano 

And this great big band, bringing up the rear 

All the band cats, in this band now 

They make the greatest sounds, you're never gonna hear 

Oh Sookie Taudry, Jenny Diver, Polly Peachum, Old Miss Lulu Brown 

Photos 

Hey the line forms, on the right dear 

Now that Macheath's back in town 

You'd better lock your doors, and call the law 

Because Macheath's back in town 

Oh, the poor shark, 

Yes, the sweet shark, 

It has big teeth 

Buried deep. 

Then there's Macheath 

With his big knife, 

But it's hidden 

In his slip. 

And this same shark, 

This poor sweet shark, 

It sheds red blood 

When it bleeds. 

Mackie Big Knife 

Wears a white glove, 

Pure in word and 

Pure in deed. 

Sunday morning 

Lovely blue sky, 

There's a corpse stretched 

On the Strand. 

Who's the man cruisin' 

The corner? 

Well, it's Mackie, 

Knife in hand. 

Jenny Towler 

Poor wee Jenny, 

There they found her 

Knife in breast. 

Mackie's wandering 

On the West Pier 

Hoping only 

For the best. 

Mind that fire burnt 

All through Soho. 

Seven kids dead 

One old flower. 

Hey there Mackie, 

How is she cuttin'? 

Have another 

Hold your hour. 

And those sweet babes 

Under sixteen 

Story goes that 

Black and blue 

For the price of 

One good screwing 

Mackie, Mackie 

How could you? 

For the price of 

One good screwing 

Mackie, Mackie 

How could you?