That's why, that's why the lady That's why, that's why the lady That's why, that's why the lady is a tramp
Tramp.
She gets too hungry for dinner at eight Hates the theatre but never comes late She never bothers with people she hate That's why, that's why the lady is a tramp
Don't go to crap games with barons or earls Won't go to Harlem in ermines and pearls She won't dish the dirt with the rest of the girls That's why, that's why the lady is a tramp
She likes the free, fresh wind in her hair Life without care She's broke, and that's "ok"
Hates California, so smarty and damp That's why the lady is a tramp. Now!
She gets massages, she cries and she moans Tells Slenderella, just to leave her alone She's not so hot, but her shape is her own That's why, that's why the lady is a tramp
The food at Sardees is great no doubt But she doesn't know what motels are about She puts in a dime, and some ice comes out That's why, the lady is a tramp
She loves the free, fresh wind in her face Diamonds and lace No God, so what?
For Rod Steiger, she whistles and stamps That's why the lady is a tramp. Now!
She don't know the reason for cocktails at five She don't like fly-em-up, but I'm glad I'm alive I crave affection baby, but not when I drive That's why, the lady is a tramp. Now!
She flew down to London, and left me behind I missed the crowning, but I didn't mind She won't play Scarlet and Gone with the Wind (It's got to rhyme) That's why the lady is a tramp. Now!
I like to hang her hat whereever I please and fly with a breeze and no dough, hi ho
She thinks that Marciano was still a great, big champ That's why the lady is a tramp. Now!
She goes down to Coney and she thinks the beach is divine She goes to the ballgames and thinks the Yankees are fine Why she reads Walther Winchell and understands every line That's why the lady is a tramp. Now!
She likes to go rowing down Central Park lake She digs a price fight that isn't a fake Why she even goes to the opera and stays wide awake That's why the lady is a tramp. Now!
I like the green grass under my shoes Now what can I lose She's flat, and that's that
She's 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