“Fifteen Minutes” (Westerbork, 1942)

A mere fifteen minutes
Fifteen is all I need
A mere fifteen minutes
I’ll catch a man with speed
In fifteen measly minutes
I’m careful, silent, wise
In fifteen measly minutes
He’s bound to think I’m nice
In fifteen measly minutes
I make a grown man swoon
In fifteen measly minutes
I show him to the moon

Eve once used an apple
For me it’s “sex-appeal”
In fifteen measly minutes
Yes, then he’s the schlemiel
A man is a strange element
Imagines he’s intelligent
He’s “studied” life? He’s bluffing
And of women he knows nothing
Yet the art of manipulation
I apply with sophistication
What is a woman in the life of a man?
The greatest thing, some say
No, a kiss is his goal, two if he can
He wants to get his way
Be a woman is my motto
And I know the rule to follow
’Cause men are marvelous creations
Yet they bore me fast, you know

But a woman’s life is so
Hence my real bad reputation
What have men shown in the past?
They’re potatoes grown cold
Or a novel read too fast?
Oh, the rest they leave me cold
Except . . .

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