Oh, the shark has pretty teeth, dear
And he shows 'em, pearly white
Just a jack knife has Macheath, dear
And he keeps it, keeps it way out of sight

When that shark bites with his teeth, dear
Scarlet billows, they begin to spread
Fancy white gloves though has Macheath, dear
So there's rarely, never one trace of red

On the sidewalk, one Sunday mornin'
Lies a body oozin' life
Someone's sneaking 'round the corner
Could that someone, perhaps, perchance, be Mack the Knife?