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My mother was a Chinese trapeze artist, pre-war in Paris
Smuggling bombs for the underground
And she met my father at a fete in Aix-en-Provence
He was disguised as a Russian cadet in the employ of the Axis
And there in the half-light , the provincial midnight
To a lone concertina, they drank in cantinas
And toasted to Edith Piaf and the fall of the Reich
My sister was born in a hovel in Burgundy
Left for the cattle but later was found by a communist
Who'd deserted his ranks to follow his dream
To start up a punk rock band in South Carolina
Well, I get letters sometimes they bought the plantation
She weeds the tobacco, he offends the nation
And they write, "Don't be a stranger, y'hear, sincerely, your sister"
So my parents had me to the disgust of the prostitutes
Bred in a brothel, surprisingly raised with tender care
'Til the money got tight and they bet me away
To a blind brigadier in a game of high stakes Canasta
But he made me a sailor on his brigadier ship fleet
I know every yardarm from main mast to jib sheet
But sometimes I long to be landlocked
And to work in a bakery
HATA BİLDİR
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