Lyrics

I’ve wined and dined on Mulligan stew and never wished for turkey
As I hitched and hiked and drifted 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 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