I’ve wined and dined on mulligan stew, and never wished for turkeyAs I hitched and hiked and grifted too, from maine to albuquerqueAlas, I missed the beaux arts ball, and what is twice as sadI was never at a party where they honored noel ca-ad (coward)But social circles spin too fast for meMy hobohemia is the place to beI get too hungry, for dinner at eightI like the theater, but never come lateI never bother, with people I hateThat’s why the lady is a trampI don’t like crap games, with barons and earlsWon’t go to harlem, in ermine and pearlsWon’t dish the dirt, with the rest of the girlsThat’s why the lady is a trampI like the free, fresh wind in her hairLife without careI’m broke, it’s o’kHate california, it’s cold and it’s dampThat’s why the lady is a trampI go to coney, the beach is devineI go to ballgames, the bleachers are fineI find a winchell, and read every lineThat’s why the lady is a trampI like a prizefight, that isn’t a fakeI love the rowing, on central park lakeI go to opera and stay wide awakeThat’s why the lady is a trampI like the green grass under my shoesWhat can I lose, I’m flat, that’s thatI’m alone when I lower my lampThat’s why the lady is a trampTranscribed by todd peach <todd@thepeaches.com>########################A few additional verses from the ella in berlin cd:Girls get massages, they cry and they moanTell slender ella to leave me aloneI’m not so hot, but my shape is my ownThat’s why the lady is a trampThe food at the kopensky is perfect, no doubtI couldn’t tell you wha the ritz is aboutDrop a nickle in, and coffee comes outThat’s why the lady is a trampLike the sweet, fresh, rain in my faceDiamonds and lace, no got, so what? !For frank sinatra, I whistle and stampThat’s why the lady is a trampShe’s a hoboShe’s a scampShe’s a no-good kinda trampThat’s why the lady is a tramp
.