The gates may be pearly but it’s way too early,
As I stand in the line to be booked.
My old back is stoopin', my moustache is droopin',
In this heavy serge, I’ll be cooked.
My villa is spotless — no booze and no tchotchkes,
A pool in the forecourt with chairs;
I’ve scoured the place — for an ashtray… no trace;
The only real downside, the stairs.
(Aside) ... all going down.
Oh Monkey Business, Horse Feathers, Go West,
At the Circus — how we rehearsed!
I miss you the most, to my Movies — a toast,
At the Races the filly came first.
The soup is suspicious. The dessert? Delicious!
The meat course seems to be touring.
The harps are relaxing, but the lyrics are taxing,
Such chanting, such beauty, so boring.
“Pray bring me a whore!” “ But what on earth for?"
Cried angels, white wings all converging;
“Because I am ancient and hardly feel patient,
When you promised Jihadis their virgins.”
(Aside) Say, did I tell you that Marilyn Monroe was in one of my movies?
Oh! Havana's roses and Cohiba's nose is
like Churchill's — so strong and so long,
I miss you the most, to my stogies— a toast,
To the butts I have smoked, all night long.
(Aside) Won't someone please bring me a martini?
Can’t you see that I sigh for one glimpse of thigh,
From chicken, turkey or Yentl,
I haven’t a halo and vice is a no-show
So why am I scheduled for dental?
I live for light skirtin' — where’s harm in the flirtin'?
A breeze, some ankle; No trouble.
A brief glimpse of potential, I’ll be penitential,
Unless all I find is dark stubble.
Oh Maggie, my mark, you sang like a lark,
That bosom — those pearls and that look,
I miss you the most, to my stooge — here's a toast,
To the only straight line I never took.
Oh give me some Mouton to down these dry croutons,
And for God’s sake pass me a cigar,
But where is the thrill when there’s no darn-ed bill!
And much as I drag, there’s no tar.
“Get me Jehovah!” “Oi, Marx! What behooves ya,”
Some old fella said with a grin.
I gestured, effusive — “This club’s so exclusive —
How did I ever get in?”
Oh Harpo with horn and Chico with corn,
Zeppo — the looks and the books,
I miss you the most, to my brothers — a toast,
To the boys I have loved since our dawn.
“So where is the pleasure, the lux without measure,
The promise that sins are forgiven,”
“Oh Groucho, believer — you tortured a diva,
What makes you so sure this is heaven?”
“Fate once cast is frozen — no matter what you’ve chosen,
Duck Soup can never be un-ducked;
Teasing or sedition, confession or contrition —
Let’s face it, Marx — your goose is most definitely plucked!”
So bring me a whore then
To give me a tour when
I could do with some earthly good cheer!
Because if I'm submittin', I'm never admittin'
That I ever belonged in here.
I miss you the most — to my brothers, a toast,
Harpo! Chico! Zeppo! Attend!
I miss you the most — to my brothers, a toast —
Now kindly get Heaven to bend!
I miss you the most — to my brothers, a cheer!
Somebody get me out of here!
Get me... Get me out of heeeeeere!
End
Quite what possessed me to write a song, particularly one with a big band swing rhythm, I have no idea. Perhaps the spirit of Marx himself. Night night, Groucho, I love you.
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