Oh the Gasthaus is still closed,
the beer taps have dripped dry,
the stove is cold in the kitchen
and the Stammtisch is as quiet
as the church on Saturday night
when out on the sidewalk
at the first crack of dawn
struts the meanest-lookin' black
cat these poor eyes ever did see.
Lord, have mercy, I'll never
drink one too many again,
I'll go to church every Sunday
and every First Friday too,
if only you make that mean
ole black cat keep struttin'
his stuff down the Hauptstrasse
right past the Gasthaus door.