lirik lagu jeffrey lewis - the pigeon
once upon a sofa stretching, while i sat there, idly kvetching
over many a lame and schmaltzy show of television dreck—
’til i made a wise decision and said, enough with the television!
when from my fire escape there flew a pigeon, a pigeon looking for a peck
’tis some flying schnorrer surely, looking for some crumb to peck—
only this, so what the heck!
inside my lower east side dwelling, while up the street some yutz was yelling
for how long there was no telling, while this pigeon pranced about
’til perched upon my icebox, stewing, sat this bird, not even cooing
this pigeon, what does he think he’s doing?
he’s just a pain right in my neck!
one claw curled like a ratner’s rugelach, with beak verkakt and feathers verschlungene
oy, i said, this bird’s meshugena, flying right inside like this!
you see my walk~up’s nothing fancy, what makes you do this thing so chancey?
shoo! fly back out to delancey, unless you care now to discuss this—
what reason do you have for coming, if you care now to discuss this?
quoth the pigeon “bupkes”
the pigeon thinking, he won’t touch me
but pigeon, i said, just you watch me!
and i reached out for some tshotshke i might throw to bring me justice
what do i own to throw at you, to punish this injustice?
quoth the pigeon “bupkes”
schmuck, i said, thing of tsuris! flying rat, local or tourist!
my icebox must hold something for us to satisfy you and send you off to flap
some old leftover leshko’s latke? or a bissele moishe’s babka?
a matzo ball, a drop of vodka, a lech and a shmeck, some little scr~p
what nosh here can we please you with? instruct us!
quoth the pigeon “bupkes”
so turning off the jimmy kimmel, i spun a dreidel and scored a gimel
and said, let’s go to yonah schimmel!
surely there at yonah schimmel you can find a snack or ten
we’ll get you some nice fresh knish to make you fly away again
or zolst du shtuppen in tuchus arin!
’cause what’s for you here? condos soar, old skies you flapped through are no more
mom and pops you cr~pped have on closed the store
and city court won’t take your dreck—
so losn gayn old days gone by, nest now the bronx or bedford~stuy
schlep off, east side schlimazel bird! to flushing or to little neck
gey baren di vantsen! gey avek!
but the pigeon, i ain’t kidding, still is sitting, still is sitting
sometimes on the counter sh~tting, staring beak~first at the fridge
and his eyes have all the chutzpah of a macher
as he struts around and treats me like a putz—
ah, this meshuge af toyt pidge!
so we stay here, two old east side klutzes
i’m still fussing, he still futzes, me and this kochleffel pidge
and we’ll be happy with what life has ungeshtupt us:
bupkes
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