Oh, the poor shark
Yes, the sweet shark
It has big teeth
Buried deep

Then there's Macheath with his big knife
But it's hidden in his slip

And this same shark,
This poor sweet shark
It sheds red blood
When it bleeds

Mackie Big Knife wears a white glove
Pure in word and pure in deed

Sunday morning
Lovely blue sky
There's a corpse stretched
On the strand

Who's the man cruising the corner ?
Well, it's Mackie, knife in hand

Jenny Towler
Poor wee Jenny
There they found her
Knife in breast

Mackie's wandering
On the West Pier
Hoping only
For the best

Mind, that fire burns 
All through Soho
Seven kids dead
One old flower

Hey there, Mackie, how is she cutting?
Have another, hold your hour

And those sweet babes
Under sixteen
Story goes that
Black and blue

For the price of one good screwing
Mackie, Mackie, how could you?

For the price of one good screwing
Mackie, Mackie, how could you?