Ακόμα ένα μέλος του ανεξάντλητου March born musicians club είναι ο μεγάλος Kurt Weill [1900-1950], συνθέτης έργων με ιδιαίτερη επίδραση στη μουσική του 20ου αι. όπως Street Scene, Threepenny Opera και The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny.
Ακούμε τρία τραγούδια απ’ αυτά τα έργα, μ’ αυτή τη σειρά, σε αξιοσημείωτες ερμηνείες / εκτελέσεις των : Betty Carter [‘Lonely House’, στίχοι Langston Hughes – 00:00], Marianne Faithfull [‘Pirate Jenny’, στίχοι Bertolt Brecht – 07:38] και Eric Dolphy με John Lewis κ.α. [‘Alabama Song’, στίχοι Bertold Brecht – 11:50]

Another member of the unlimited March born musicians club is the great Kurt Weill [1900-1950], composer of works of great influence for 20th century music, such as Street Scene, Threepenny Opera and The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny.
We hear three songs from these works, in this order, in remarkable performances by : Betty Carter [‘Lonely House, words by Langston Hughes – 00:00], Marianne Faithfull [‘Pirate Jenny’, words by Bertolt Brecht – 07:38] and Eric Dolphy with John Lewis et al. [‘Alabama Song’, words by Bertolt Brecht – 11:50]

AT night when everything is quiet
This old house seems to breathe a sigh
Sometimes I hear a neighbor snoring
Sometimes I hear a baby cry
Sometimes I hear a staircase creaking
Sometimes a distant telephone
Then the quiet settles down again
The house and I are all alone

Lonely house, lonely me
Funny with so many neighbors
How lonely it can be
Oh lonely street, lonely town
Funny you can be so lonely
With all these folks around

I guess there must be something
I don’t comprehend
Sparrows have companions
Even stray dogs find a friend

The night for me is not romantic
Unhook the stars and take them down
I’m lonely in this lonely house
In this lonely town



YOU lads see me wash the glasses, wipe the floors
Make the beds, I’m the best of servants
You can kindly throw me pennies and I’ll thank you very much
When you see me ragged and tattered in this dirty shit hotel
You don’t know in hell who’s talking
You still don’t know in hell who’s talking
Yet one fine day there will be roars from the harbour
And you’ll ask, “What is all that screeching for?”
And you’ll see me smiling as I dunk the glasses
And you’ll say, “What’s she got to smile at for?”

And the ship, eight sails shining
Fifty-five cannons wide, sir
Waits there at the quay

You say, “Work on, wipe the glasses, my girl”
And just slip me a dirty six-pence
And your pennies will be taken, and your beds will be made
But I doubt if forty winks will come anybody’s way
And you still don’t know in hell who’s talking
You still don’t know in hell who’s talking
Still one fine day there’ll be a loud bang from the harbour
And you’ll ask, “Jesus Christ, what was that bang?”
And you’ll see me standing right behind the window
And you’ll say, “Why has she got the evil eye?”
And the ship, eight sails shining
Fifty-five cannons wide, sir
Will be aimed at this town

So then lads, it’s time for tears, no more laughs at the bar
For the walls will be at your ankles
And look out, lads, the town will be flat as the ground
This dirty shit hotel will be spared wrack and ruin

And you’ll say, “Who’s the fancy bitch lives there?”
You’ll say, “Who’s the fancy bitch lives there?”
There’ll be rows of people running round the hotel
And you’ll ask, “Why should they have spared this hovel?”
And you’ll see me in the morning leaving lightly
And you’ll say, “That one, her, she lived there?”

The same ship, eight sails shining
Fifty-five cannons wide, sir
Flies crossbones and skull

In the midday sun a hundred men will step ashore
All tramping where your shadows crawled
They’ll lay their hands on men, hiding shit-scared behind doors
Lead them in chains here before this silent woman
And they’ll say, “Well, which ones shall we kill?”
They’ll say, “Which ones shall we kill?”
Come the dot of twelve, it will be still in the harbour
Oh, when they ask me, “Well, who’s going to die?”
And you’ll hear me whispering, oh, so sweetly
“All of them!”
And as the soft heads fall, I’ll say, “Hop-là!”
That same ship, eight sails shining
Fifty-five cannons wide, sir
Disappears with me