I woulda been a babe, a real dollface
hot mamma whose dish could sink ships to place
a sailor in my path…and he’d take me
to make whoopee, blow his horn and fill me
full of giggle-juice, thinking, What a dame!
No gold-digging on my mind just a swell
night to knacker the peepers in snazzy
style – time off rot-gut booze in beat clip-joints.
I woulda been a contender; aces
in this corner, sneaky keen to rise to
cool-cat; I’d be where it’s at – no kiss-off
for this looker. I’d be, Look at me Ma,
top of the world…Patsy done good so don’t
blow your wig ‘cause I’ll be home late tonight.
