God bless you and keep you from harm, this day and forever

Gretel's getting on in years now, though she still looks good at night

when the Brandy gives her color and her opals catch the light

She could scratch the eyes from idols, it has frequently been said

And her nails still look effective – they are Chinese lacquer red

And she taps them on her snifter when she wants more anisette

And there’s still someone to buy it and to light her cigarette

Which is small and dark in color, akin to a cigar

And she’s she still some kind of dresser, and by Burma she’s a star.

And I guess she scared (we all are)

and would like to be adored,

But the one thing that I'm sure of is, by midnight Gretel's bored.

The rumor is she's German, she herself says Viennese.

She’s at home in French and English and she curses in Burmese.

There is talk of famous lovers and connections with a trade

that involved endangered species, China white, gun parts, and jade.

But Rangoon is full of rumors and God knows she'll never tell

You would think she's always lived here - in this almost good hotel

Where the flit who plays piano still insists he saw her cry

Says he took a Kir for courage, went up and asked her “why?”

She said, I miss my brother, I miss running risks for free.

Once we faced a witch together and today that witch is me.