(by John Kander & Fred Ebb)
What good is sitting alone in your room?
Come, hear the music play.
Life is a cabaret, old chum.
Come to the cabaret.
Put down that knitting, the book and the broom;
Time for a holiday.
Life is a cabaret, old chum.
Come to the cabaret.
Come, hear the music play.
Life is a cabaret, old chum.
Come to the cabaret.
Put down that knitting, the book and the broom;
Time for a holiday.
Life is a cabaret, old chum.
Come to the cabaret.
Come taste the wine. Come hear the band.
Come blow your horn, start celebrating,
Right this way, your table's waiting.
No use permitting some prophet of doom to
Wipe every smile away.
Life is a cabaret, old chum.
So come to the cabaret!
I used to have this girl friend known as Elsie
With whom I shared four sordid rooms in Chelsea.
She wasn't what you'd call a blushing flower
As a matter of fact she rented by the hour.
The day she died the neighbours came to snicker
Well, that's what comes of too much pills and liquor.
But when I saw her laid out like a queen
She was the happiest corpse I'd ever seen.
I think of Elsie to this very day.
I remember how she'd turn to me and say:
"What good is sitting alone in your room?
Come hear the music play.
Life is a cabaret, old chum.
Come to the cabaret.
And as for me, ha!
And as for me,
I made my mind up back in Chelsea
When I goooooooooooooooo,
I'm going like Elsie.
Start by admitting from cradle to tomb
There isn't that long a stay
Life is a Cabaret, old chum
It's only a Cabaret old chum
And I love a Cabaret!
Come blow your horn, start celebrating,
Right this way, your table's waiting.
No use permitting some prophet of doom to
Wipe every smile away.
Life is a cabaret, old chum.
So come to the cabaret!
I used to have this girl friend known as Elsie
With whom I shared four sordid rooms in Chelsea.
She wasn't what you'd call a blushing flower
As a matter of fact she rented by the hour.
The day she died the neighbours came to snicker
Well, that's what comes of too much pills and liquor.
But when I saw her laid out like a queen
She was the happiest corpse I'd ever seen.
I think of Elsie to this very day.
I remember how she'd turn to me and say:
"What good is sitting alone in your room?
Come hear the music play.
Life is a cabaret, old chum.
Come to the cabaret.
And as for me, ha!
And as for me,
I made my mind up back in Chelsea
When I goooooooooooooooo,
I'm going like Elsie.
Start by admitting from cradle to tomb
There isn't that long a stay
Life is a Cabaret, old chum
It's only a Cabaret old chum
And I love a Cabaret!
That was great YP. Thanks for giving my morning a lift. Even without any sound on for me, reading the subtitles I could still hear that familiar belter in my head. She was brilliant wasn't she?
ReplyDeleteI hope you danced around the kitchen, kicking your legs like a can-can dancer!
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DeletePredictably I don't subscribe to the notion. A time and a place for everything. If I want to swing a broom, sit in my room, read a book or just look out of the window I will. Anyway, cabaret is not open any time soon. What with the two meter. Which, oh, YP, I could weep, has gone completely to pot.
ReplyDeleteIndulge me for a moment: Lockdown was fine for me if eerie when walking through the city - sometimes not seeing anyone for ages till hitting a food shop. The sound of silence made no difference to my enjoyment of life.
However, and it surprised me, POST lockdown (and as of yesterday) a wave of despair engulfs me. It's so unlike me.
Non-essential shops open once more people are out in droves. Which is fine. However (once more the dreaded, by me, HOWEVER), I couldn't help thinking whether that whole lockdown exercise was one big piss take by THEM (whoever they are). A sort of test whether a whole populace can be beaten into submission. I am rarely down in the dumps but yesterday I was. Big time. Questions, questions, questions. And I am not given to conspiracy theories. My spirit lifted when I walked past our local playground and there were four little boys doing what little boys do. Enjoy themselves.
U
PS Yes, I was down in the dumps. But mainly, on my return, I was angry. Really really angry.
DeleteGreetings from Kafka's, Huxley's and Orwell's love child,
U
Sorry you have been feeling blue Ursula! Grab a hairbrush and use it like a microphone as you sing your own version of "Life is A Cabaret" into your bathroom mirror. The Angel will be yelling, "Mum! What the hell is going on?"
DeleteYou rarely disappoint in offering a disappointing reply. Flippancy will only get you so far, YP.
DeleteU
PS My son calls me Mama, not Mum. Neither would he ever yell.
... don't you squeal as the heel
ReplyDeleteGrinds you under the wheels
Life's a long song
But the tune ends too soon for us all
Maybe Ian Anderson got the song idea from "Cabaret".
DeleteThe Cabaret is a long way off for me. Twelve weeks shielding and it's not over yet. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteThe Cabaret is waiting for you to strut your stuff ADDY!
DeleteI confess that I had never listened properly to the words before despite the number of times over the years I've heard the song. Now that I have and have given them some thought I really don't know where to start. How many of us really live the life of Riley? How many of us want to? This is an amazingly huge metaphorical can of worms that you have opened in my thoughts, YP. My basic philosophy has been to make the best of the cards dealt and I'm fortunate to have been largely very happy as a result. If I have to go tomorrow I'll be really peed off but I'll certainly have a retrospective smile on my face.
ReplyDeleteFrom what I have read in "Eagleton Notes" I believe that you came to the cabaret Graham! Your life has been lived with positivity, embracing events, trying to make the most of things.
DeleteClassic. And Liza was so perfect in that role.
ReplyDeleteThe right song. The right singer. The right moment.
DeleteI love that movie. Easily the best thing Liza Minnelli ever did.
ReplyDeleteIt was surely the pinnacle of her professional life.
DeleteIt sounds like something Boris would sing. Those four sordid rooms in Chelsea would be worth a kings ransom. Is it Liza or LISA?
ReplyDeleteIt is Liza. She's seventy four now and looking for an Anglo-Irish toyboy!
DeleteLove that song, love the night club, love the film, it had a big impact on me when I was a young whippersnapper of a lass. I had the soundtrack and played it over and over again.
ReplyDeleteDid you sing it out loud when tramping The Trent Valley Way?
DeleteI do sing when I walk, whatever comes into my head. I know these words by heart.
Delete