My Daughter

A cripple, a leper, a blind man
Homeless, brain-damaged, antique
The king of the beggars, he walks in the street
And these are the words that he speaks:
«My daughter, my daughter
Her we adore
She’s earning good money
She’s a hard-working whore
No legs, no arms, we’re blind, and can’t speak
We beg that your heart it grows weak."
The king of the beggars, he walks in the street
And these are the words that he speaks:
«My daughter, my daughter
Her we adore
She’s earning good money
She’s a hard-working whore;
Well, we live and we work in the street…»