I won't be down at Lonnie's
Won't walk through Harry's door
All the dives and sleazy bars
Won't see me no more
I'm with a better cla** of bums
I drink a fancy kind of booze
I'm smoking big cigars
And drive expensive cars
But I still can't get to you
The girls way down on Main Street
Will have to do without
They'll have to find some other guy
'Cause they won't see me about
I'm with a better cla** of bums
Sammy at the newstand
The tears run from his eyes
He's got piles of trashy magazines
'Cause I only buy the Times
I'm with a better cla** of bums
I met up with your mama
I swept her off her feet
Your papa likes to call me Son
And your sister says I'm sweet
I'm with a better cla** of bums
How can I impress you
What else can I do?
I've shaved and bathed and dressed so fine
With patent leather shoes
I'm with a better cla** of bums