Text: Barbra Streisand. Ballad of The Garment Trade.

If you don't want to get nervous
Do yourself a great big service
Stay away, please, far from Seventh Avenue

You can lose your sense and reason
Guessing what style for next season
Yes, the dress business will make a wreck of you

It's a battle of fierce and grim
That depends on the ladies' whim
What'll Miss and Misses America's answer be?

Will she say with a tossing head?
And that rare guy wouldn't drop dead
Or she'll say, "Yes, this dress is really me"

On guessing what a day will say
A sheer impossibility
This poor kid's brave, he worked away

And try to build that industry
How crazy, bold and reckless
Can human beings be

Hip, hip, hooray! For the garment trade
Hear the cheer to push the music hits us everyone
Day after day, they go on this way
To the cockeyed way the job that must be done

Off to the fray on the brave crusade
Gallant ladies' garment trade
Though in health got speed in a gesture breed
Made all answers on parade

What a business what a sack game
Yet it's about as much your business is a crap game
Snapper, zipper, bowler, button
All we know is what the experts know from nothin'

So the last line you got pie with
Coming right up is another you could die with
If you're right the dough could flow in
If you're not you haven't got a pot to sew with

Off to the fray on the brave crusade
Gallant ladies' garment trade
Though in health got speed in a gesture breed
Made all answers on parade

Off to the fray on the brave crusade
Gallant ladies' garment trade
Though in health got speed in a gesture breed
Made all answers on parade