The Camptown ladies came again,
The World's Fair and the oil can,
Dan the Strongman, and Tyler too,
They sashayed in, in garland capes,
Brandished pork and organ pipes,
Ablaze in stars and stripes and boo hoo hoo.
Now I liked to keep my engine clean,
I'd fill it up with gasoline,
I'd get it shining bright like new,
But all of them just took a piece,
And drove it out, out on the streets,
And left me black with grease and high on glue.
I said "Let me keep my vague romances,
All the silver went to Francis,
And all the second chances went to Sue",
And I buried their sorrows then,
Deep in the sunbaked Sudan,
And took the mountain van to Katmandoo.
Now, the white boy had a family band,
And I traded an accordian,
For beans and three sardines and vegan stew,
But they left me on the fourteenth flour,
Strangled like an albacore,
Screaming like a eunich Cockatoo.
And now I'm alone and I don't feel right,
I'm hanging on a hallway light,
With an open container and a fever of a-hundred and two,
And tommorrow it is set to rain,
The city is a frying pan,
And I'm a hot dog in a bark canoe.
Drifting through the open crowd,
In Black Peter's cloak and shroud,
Singing loud to the chosen few.
