In a little immigrant port town
I heard this tale of woe,
The very sad story of Giuseppe,
He was a master carpenter
A man of ability,
And his surpassing skill
Was matched by his energy.
“See all-a these-a houses,”
He thought that I should know.
“I build them with my two hands,
Am I ‘Giuseppe-the-house-builder’? No.”
“And see all-a those-a boats.
Don’t-a believe it but it’s so.
I made-a most every one of them,
Am I ‘Giuseppe-the-boat-builder’? No.”
“But then somehow it-a happened.
It hadda to be my luck
In a moment of-a my weakness
I just-a fuck-a one duck.”
Another politically incorrect “poke.”