Bay City. It's a nice little town, a prosperous little town;
Sea breezes off the ocean just about mask the stink of corruption.
Some say the sewage system is overloaded with half digested hot dogs;
Jesus, it's California and money talks. I needed a drink bad.
I walked into a bar just off Arguello Boulevard. Maybe 'bout five p.m.
I told the bartender to give me a shot of his best rye and leave the bottle.
He laughed in my face as he poured it but I'm a hopeful kind of guy.
I sat on a stool at the bar and looked around: it was a dump.

It was as hot as Hell outside and so was I, hot and horny for a dame.
A glazed-over eyed old alkie slumped on a chair in a corner;
There were a couple of broads sat at the bar and I toasted them.
One was all woman, my kind of woman, young but old enough;
Blonde hair down to her shoulders, eyes like ponds of icewater,
Legs going right up to her armpits, enough to tempt a saint,
Her mouth a luscious gash, lips like two blood-red frankfurters,
The kind of mouth inviting you to lick her molars clean.

She was the sort of woman who could make any regular guy, even me,
Roll over on his back, all four paws in the air, begging for it.
I knew it and she knew it. She was a beautiful piece of work.
The other woman was a dog. They were Beauty and the Beast.
You've got to have some beasts in this life, that's how it goes, I guess.
She was big, maybe not as big as a beer truck, but not far off.
She was as cute as a cracked washtub and her face was a bucket of lard.
Her chin had a dimple you could hide a marble in and not touch the sides.

I knew the score, I'd been there before: they came as a pair.
One was a dream, the other your worst nightmare,
Great in the sack, but only if you enjoy grunting hogs.
What the Hell, I told the barkeep to send them over some drinks.
The blonde took a Bacardi and gave me the glad eye
And the big one ordered a quart of beer, like she was on a diet.
They declined my sophisticated small talk and told me the deal:
Two C notes for the blonde solo, fifty percent off if I went for the duo.

Back at my hotel on Central Ave,, I found out it was a good price:
The dream girl had a body to die for but showed as much enthusiasm
As a turkey shows for Thanksgiving, which is Goddam' close to zero.
But the Beast sucked like a Hoover (and J.Edgar I don't mean)
And rode me like the Lone Ranger galloping over the prairie,
Taking me all the way down the long winding trail home.
She had an ass like a hippo and she wobbled like giant jello.
Motto: when you die, it's the big sleep; so, never say no to a woman