Oh, Mama, I saw one on the Square, heck-el-ing a Y-C-Ler there.
I could see that she was doing fine, for she had better twists and curves
Than any party line.
Chorus:
A Trotskyite, a Trotskyite, I wanna marry a Trotskyite.
The bourgeoisie, they don't appeal to me,
A Yipsel girl must keep me company.
Oh dearie, no Y-C-L for me,
I only want a Trotskyite to bounce upon my knee.
In spite of Bronx and Brooklyn dialects, the Yipsel girls have got a lot of sex.
They know their Engels and they know their Marx
And we've discussed Das Kapital on Sundays in the parks.
They know their love, they know their politics,
l'm crazy for those female Bolsheviks.
I know we agree in the theory of the State
And so I'm sure that one of them would make a perfect mate.
The Yipsel girls have given their consent
To Marx's laws of full development;
My, how dames and dialectics,
Trotsky, love, and Lenin, and sex appeal can mix.
I know about Joe Stalin's Comintern,
And "surplus value" is just what I should learn.
But my education has never gone above
Beginning of "Utopian and Scientific Love".
As workers of the world we must unite,
So I'll do it with a Trotskyite.
We'll join our hands in a union strong
And they'll play "Solidarity" for our wedding song.
'Twill be a Dual Power Regime,
We'll collaborate, strange as it may seem.
And we'll begin, my wife and me,
To read Engels' "Origin of the Family."
My wife and I will go to bed at nights:
"United Front" between the Trotskyites.
And when she's out on Yipsel work instead,
I'll buy Labor Action to take her place in bed.
Oh, you'll never know Bolshevism's charms
Until you've had a Yipsel in your arms.
Joe Stalin would change his party line
And the Gay-Pay-Oo would pay to woo
A comrade such as mine.
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