Barbra Streisand — Not Cricket to Picket

It's not cricket to picket, not cricket Oh no, it's just not comme il faut to picket You haven't any right, you know You're acting in great haste Just think of the predicament In which your boss is placed And, entre nous, I think It's in exceedingly bad taste Not cricket to picket, not cricket It's not cricket to picket, not cricket Atrocious and gauche, you know, to picket Go home and starve like gentlemen Not like a noisy brood Real ladies never make a fuss Though they lack clothes and food And money's never talked about For that would be quite rude Not cricket to picket, not cricket It's not picket to cricket, not picket Uncultured and unmannerly to picket You know you're misbehaving now You mustn't lose your mind You're being so inelegant And frankly quite unkind Excuse my indiscretion But you're ardent unrefined Not picket to cricket, not picket It ain't ticket to stick it not picket Now officer, give each man there a cricket Oh, dear, where is your decency No Vanderbilts or Asters Would ask in such a vulgar way Befitting only dastards I beg you get the hell away You lousy bunch of- What do you mean "disturbing the peace"? Come with you? Offi - Officer, you're bruising my mink Get your hands off, kid! You don't seem to know who I am Or whom I know Listen, I'm an intimate friend of Jimmy Walker You won't get me in that black wagon!