The Ballad of Sexual Dependency

[MRS. PEACHUM]

Now there's a man, the living tool of Satan

He charges forth while others are debatin'

Connivin', cocky knave with all the trimmin'

I know one thing will trim him down—women

In women he meets deep authority

In them he feels his old dependency

He sniggers at the good book

Mocks the priss and prim

Does anything for pay if it will pay

And since he knows what ladies do to him

He thrusts them well out of his way

All through the day he swears he's self denying

Then dusk descends and once again he's lying

They're all the same in meeting love's confusion

Poor noble souls get blotted in illusion

The one who swore he would escape the clinches

Who is it that entangles him—wenches

He'd fain resist their lush authority

Before him stands his old dependency

He hugged the Ten Commandments

Trod the tried and true

Would godly be and golden rule obey

For lunch ate frugally, a grape a two

Survived on one pure thought a day

He screamed, "I've mastered it without half trying"

Appears the moon and once again he's lying

(spoken)

Idiots, all of them.