Love Lyrics Of A Lounge Lizard                                                                                                   

You think I'm a gay bird, a young cabaret bird
Who shakes a mean dog just for fun.
Well, can that impression. I'll make a confession--
I do it to harvest the mon.
These fat dames of forty who think they are sporty
Fall hard for us pleasant young men
Who're willing to drag 'em around in the dance
And kid 'em a little when there is a chance
To make 'em feel twenty again.

And so if these hens who would like to be wrens,
Who gad around town pretty much,
Should on some occasion without much persuasion
Hand over a twenty or such--
Well, why should I spurn it? Believe me, I earn it.
Consider the stress and the strain
Of hearing 'em talk about systems of diet,
And teaching 'em dance steps. Oh baby, you try it!
It's tought on the feet and the brain.


I didn't think that I could get a thrill
From any kind of Jane. I thought I'd seen
Most every sort: the kalsomined chorine,
The haughty dame, the peppy little frill
Who flirts with danger as these flappers will
With baby face, and eyes both hard and keen.
But say, tonight I lamped a little queen
Sweet as they make 'em. Honest, I could spill
A line of talk about her for an hour.
For she was like the simple forest flower
I've never seen, but that I've read about.
Her eyes were warm and soft, she seemed to glow
With happiness at all this Broadway show--
The place seemed kind of dead when she went out.

                                     [3] to be continued

Published in: Cosmopolitan - February 1923

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