I get too hungry, for dinner at eight

I like the theater, but [bad word] late

I never bother, with people I hate

That's why the lady is a tramp

I don't like [bad word] 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 her 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 devine

I go to ballgames, the bleachers are fine

I find a 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 alone when I lower my lamp

That's why the lady is a tramp



[few additional verses from the "Ella In Berlin" CD:]

Girls get massages, they cry and they moan

Tell slender Ella to leave me alone

I'm not so hot, but my shape is my own

That's why the lady is a tramp

The food at the Kopensky is perfect, no doubt

I couldn't tell you wha the Ritz is about

Drop a nickle in, and [bad word] out

That's why the lady is a tramp

Like the sweet, fresh, rain in my face

Diamonds and lace, no got, so what?!

For Frank Sinatra, I whistle and stamp

That's why the lady is a tramp

She's a hobo

She's a scamp

She's a no-good kinda tramp

That's why the lady is a tramp