london stories: polish officer story - groucho marx lyrics
when i was over in london, some years ago – i did a
quizshow over there for a while. it wasn’t too succesful,
but the…eh…the american amb-ssador, he liked me,
because i used to be funny and crack jokes. jackie
on-ssis’ sister, radziwill, you may have seen her, she’s
been on tv a few times. she’s a very pretty girl, and she
had a husband, who was polish. he was well over four
feet, and i told him a story. this is the story:
it’s about a hooker. you all know what that is, i guess.
i’m sure that sometime in your life, somebody has seen
one. it was a story about a girl who picks up a pole, and
takes him home, and feeds him, gets him dinner. they go
to bed that night, have a great time. next morning she
helps him get dressed, puts on his uniform with his big
epaulets hanging on, and he starts to leave. then she
says “just a monment, what about money?”, and he says “a
polish officer doesn’t accept money.”
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