I've wined and dined on Mulligan stew,
and never wished for turkey.
As I hitched and hiked and grifted too,
from Maine to Albuquerque.
Alas I missed the Beaux Arts Ball and what is twice as sad,
I was never at a party where they honored Noel Ca-ad.
But social circles spin too fast for me,
My hobohemia is the place to be.
I get too hungry for dinner at eight,
I like the theater, but never come late.
I never bother with people I hate,
That's why the lady is a tramp.
I don't like crap games with barons and earls,
Won't go to Harlem in ermine and pearls.
Won't dish the dirt with the rest of the girls,
That's why the lady is a tramp.
I like the free, fresh wind in my hair,
Life without care.
I'm broke, it's oke.
Hate California, it's cold and it's damp,
That's why the lady is a tramp.
I go to Coney, the beach is divine,
I go to ballgames, the bleachers are fine.
I follow Winchell and read every line,
That's why the lady is a tramp.
I like a prizefight that isn't a fake,
I love the rowing on Central Park lake.
I go to Opera and stay wide awake,
That's why the lady is a tramp.
I like the green grass under my shoes.
What can I lose, I'm flat, that's that
I'm alone when I lower my lamp,
That's why the lady is a tramp.

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS