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I might have been the burglar
and he the master of the house
The mistress of the house was
hiding behind the door
He knew I was her lover;
he was jealous, madly jealous
You’re like a little trade union
here at Manderley, aren’t you?
You didn’t have much success with Rebecca, did you, Crawley?
That garden path wasn’t long enough, eh?
You think i’m the big,bad wolf, don’t you? he sai
but I’m not, you know. I’m perfectly ordinary
that’s the sort of death Rebeca would choose
se’d go out like she lived, fighting
All married men with lovely wives are jealous, aren't they
and some of ‘em just can’t help playing othello
A lovely woman isn’t like a motot tyre, she doesn’t wear out
The more you use her the better she goes
I’m a bit of a socialist in my way, you know and
I can’t think why fellows cant share their women instead of killing them
There he is, there’s your murdered for you, Mr Maximilian de Winter….
He’d look well hanging wouldn’t he