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Nat Pinkerton’s a sleuth no one can beat,
Since my teen days he’s been my biggest idol.
But with this fact I’m bound to admit
That his bad guys were too naive and idle.
I’ve gotten excellent ears and eyes,
And no one can escape my incursion.
But I know so much of you, guys,
That I often feel disgust and aversion.
Suspecting everything is the position I base,
Which I received through practicing and learning.
Each one of criminals steadfastly leaves a trace
And to the scene of crime he later is returning.
I’ve gotten excellent ears and eyes,
And no one can escape my incursion.
But I know so much of you, guys,
That I often feel disgust and aversion.
Detectives have unpleasant, gloomy looks,
Their characters aren’t lovely and appealing,
Because with gangsters, murderers and crooks,
With liars and mischiefs we’re only dealing.
When there’s a feast and lots of people are drunk,
When everybody laughs and sings and dances,
It’s not for me — I rummage in the junk
And look in windows and through slots in fences.
I’ve gotten excellent ears and eyes,
And no one can escape my incursion.
But I know so much of you, guys,
That I often feel disgust and aversion.
Shakespeare said that our world’s a stage,
And what I see are just characteristic roles:
These persons are scamps, and those persons are knaves.
That’s really all. What more, as Pushkin’s saying goes?
But there’s a name I cherish in my heart,
The pretty name which gives me light and hope:
She’s acting out a constructive part,
Not letting me become a misanthrope.
I’ve gotten excellent ears and eyes,
And no one can escape my incursion.
But I know so much of you, guys,
That I often feel disgust and aversion!
1968.
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