Ladies and gentlemen, and now, once again, Fräulein Sally Boltz! What good is sitting alone in your 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, time for a holiday. Life is a cabaret, old chum, come to the cabaret. Come taste the wine, come hear the band, come blow your horn, start celebrating. Right this way, your table's waiting. No use permitting some prophet of doom to wipe every smile away. Life is a cabaret, old chum, come to the cabaret. I used to have a 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 of 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, Good is sitting alone in your 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, time for a holiday. Life is a cabaret, old chum, come to the cabaret. But as for me, 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 isn't that long a stay. Life is a cabaret, old chum, only a cabaret, old chum, and I love the cabaret.