The Lady Is a Tramp

I like the free, fresh wind in my hair
I'm a no-good kind of a tramp
Life without care, I'm broke, it's okay

Tell slender Ella to leave me alone
That's why the lady is a tramp
That's why the lady

That's why the lady is a tramp
I don't like crap games, with Barons and Earls
I never bother, with people I hate
Social circles move too fast for me
I'm a hobo
I'm always happy when I lower my lamp
And I eat baloney, read every Walter winter line
That's why the lady is a tramp
I get too hungry, for dinner at eight
I won't go to Harlem, in ermine and pearls
I never been to a party where they honored Noel Cad

And Frank Sinatra, oh he's so divine
I'm a scamp
That's why the lady is a tramp

I go, go to Coney, the beach is divine
Diamonds and lace, no got, so what?
That's why the lady is a tramp
Hate California, it's cold and it's damp
I like that sweet, fresh, rain in my face
I'm not so hot, but my shape is my own
That's why the lady is a tramp
That's why the lady
As I hitched and hiked and grifted too
Alas, I missed the Beaux Arts Ball, and what is twice as sad

Girls get massages, we cry and we moan
My "Hobohemia" is the place to be
From Maine to Albuquerque

Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of the girls
I like the theater, but never come late