„Spiel nicht mit den Schmuddelkindern” is a darkly whimsical story about class prejudice, rebellion and the price of forgetting where you come from. The narrator follows a boy whose parents, teachers and pastor keep warning him, “Don’t play with the grubby kids, go to the posh Upper Town like your brothers!” Yet he cannot resist sneaking back to the ramshackle rabbit-hutches where the so-called misfits gamble with rat pelts, make music on combs and invent their own joyful rules. Forced into an elite school, the boy scrubs off his accent, trades folky tunes for polite concert pieces, and learns to shout patriotic slogans in neat rows. He grows up rich, buys a mansion and bulldozes the old huts, but the smell of the rabbit pens still clings to his memories—so much that he beats his own son when the child comes home “smelling” of the past.
The song’s twisty ending shows the man crashing his sports car, limping back to the very world he once denied, and finally meeting a grim fate beside the children he tried to escape. Degenhardt uses biting satire and vivid street imagery to expose how social climbing can turn curiosity into cruelty, and how fear of the “other” often circles back on those who preach it the loudest. Behind the playful refrain lies a cautionary reminder: shutting out people deemed unclean or unworthy does not cleanse society—it only breeds tragedy, repetition and the haunting echo of forbidden songs.