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Musical: Boys From Syracuse, The
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LADIES: Poor little daughters of the moon When the sun is dawning What is as sour as a day in June For the ladies of the evening In the morning? Lost is the music of the night For the daily clamor. Noses are red and cheeks are white. Where the hell's our glamour? Where the hell's our glamour! POLICE: We let the burglars take their snatch To the shop for pawning. All that we ever aim to catch Is the ladies of the evening in the morning. All night they bring rich men to grief Till they have no cash left. Cops can't afford the good roast beef But we have the hash left. ALL: A plum becomes a prune. A joke becomes a pun, And daughters of the moon Must stray beneath the sun. Let them earn an honest drachma While the moral girls are yawning. A policeman's lost Is ladies of the evening In the morning. So start the day The Police Department way With the ladies of the evening In the morning.
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