Στοίχοι: John Pizzarelli. With a Song in My Heart. Lady Is a Tramp.
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 o'k
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 all alone when I lower my lamp
That's why the lady, that's why the lady
That's why the lady is a tramp
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 o'k
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 all alone when I lower my lamp
That's why the lady, that's why the lady
That's why the lady is a tramp
With a Song in My Heart
John Pizzarelli
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