Feminists, do not
mistake this for a song of male chauvinism and an abuse of women. Feminists,
there is a substance in the world, a cherishable, priceless substance, known as
irony, which sometimes may even be extended into satire. This song belongs to
the catalogue of sketches I wrote for a review in the 1980s, and later
incorporated into a play called ‘The Sketchwriter’. The reprise line belongs to
Nietzsche. Blame him for it, not me.
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| http://popeye.wikia.com/wiki/File:Bluto_Oozing_Machismo.jpg |
I'll teach you 'bout the ladies, I'll tell you what their game is
the only proper
name for it's servility
Right across the
nation girls of all denominations
they long for
domination/masculinity
Just look into
their faces you can see their women's graces
Traces upon traces
of passivity
There's nothing
girls love more than staying home to do the chores
and to adore the
male law which is virility
So treat her like
a chattel, the way you'd treat your cattle
tie her up in
chains don't let them slip
and take her by
the ear and teach her about fear
and when you take
her to your bed - don't forget the whip
If she starts to
rant and rail just put her in a veil
let her learn that
it's the male who holds the power in his grip
Put her in a cage
or she can really be engaging
if you put her on
a stage and watch her strip
Her body's so
inviting what a place to spend the night in
but make sure you
put it right in till it hurts
If she tries to
burn her bra, then show her what you are
and leave her with
a scar or something worse
And treat her like
a chattel the way you'd treat your cattle
tie her up in
chains don't let them slip
and take her by
the ear and teach her about fear
and when you take
her to your bed - don't forget the whip
In the battle of
the sexes there are only nows and exes
Monogamy’s like
taxes take no ifs or ands or buts
Don’t be
gentlemen, remember that the rule is no surrender
With a slag or
whore or tramp or tart or slut
First she’ll offer
you a smile then it’s lead me down the aisle
Into mile after
mile of eternity
Buy her bibs and
fill her cribs, feed the beast of women’s lib
And worship her as
goddess of maternity
Or treat her like
a chattel, the way you'd treat your cattle
tie her up in
chains don't let them slip
and take her by
the ear and teach her about fear
and when you take
her to your bed - don't forget the whip
You can find David Prashker at:
If
you would like to include "Don't Forget The Whip" in your repertoire,
either for paid public performance or to record for commercial
purposes, or if you would like to re-use the recordings attached to this
blog-page for commercial purposes, contact
argaman@theargamanpress.com.
Use of this song, and/or these recordings, for
non-commercial purposes, is not simply permitted but invited.
Words and music by David Prashker
Copyright © 2014 David Prashker
All rights reserved
The Argaman Press
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