What good is sitting,
alone In you room?
Come hear the music play.
Life is a cabaret, old chum,
Come to the cabaret.
Put down the knitting,
The book and the broom.
It's time for a holiday.
Life is a cabaret, old chum,
Come to the cabaret.
Come taste the wine,
Come hear the band.
Come blow a horn,
Start celebrating;
Right this way,
Your table's waiting.
What good's admitting
Some prophet of doom
To wipe every smile away.
Life is a cabaret, old chum,
So come to the cabaret!
I used to have this girlfriend,
Known as Elsie,
With whom I shared,
Four sordid rooms in Chelsea.
She wasn't what you'd call,
A blushing flower...
As a matter of fact,
She rented by the hour.
The day she died the neighbours
Came to snicker:
"Well, that's what comes,
From too much pills and liquor."
But when I saw her laid out like a queen,
She was the happiest corpse
I'd ever seen.
I think of Elsie to this very day.
I remember, how she'd turn to me and say:
"What good is sitting, all alone in you room?
Come hear the music play.
Life is a cabaret, old chum,
Come to the cabaret.
And as for me,
And as for me,
I made my mind up, back in Chelsea,
When I go: "I'm going like Elsie".
Start by admitting,
From cradle to tomb
It isn't that a long a stay.
Life is a cabaret, old chum,
It's only a cabaret, old chum
And I love a cabaret.
