(to Cher's Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves)
She had twelve in the kitchen
And a thirty-odd more
Her kitties used to yowl
Ev’ry night until four
Plop of food drew
Battalion of fur
Hop up on the table
Bunch of purring felines, all bug chauffeurs
Mitzi’s cats had fleas
They’re jumping off the tabbies
Onto carpet fibers
Mitzi’s cats had fleas
Amazing sight when the bugs would party down
And play a funky sound
She called a friend
And said, “Now come see
Bugs keepin’ time,
Funkin’ out a hot beat.”
Fleas were so phat,
They were bustin’ grooves
Echoed sounds of Memphis
And lots of Dee-troit rhythms, dancing little legs moved
Mitzi’s cats had fleas
They’d rap a little Diddy
Then a round of bluegrass
Mitzi’s cats had fleas
When on a mic all the bugs would harmonize
Then nibble on some thighs
The critters went tourin’
And they got fan mail
For their cool, jumpin’ style
Six months later,
They’re on drugs and troubled
And they went in rehab for a while
They went in rehab
For a while
It was tune full of sorrow
When the buggers did go
The music didn't last
And the money got low
Fame had price,
An end to fast lane
After kitty washin'
Fellahs found the bottom of Mitzi's drain.
Mitzi’s cats had fleas
We hear their little chorus
Soothing sounds that haunt us
Mitzi’s cats had fleas
The tunage tight, we remember lovin’ sound
Of insects throwin’ down.
Copyright 2011 Warren Baker
