Kitty DeBow by Tiffany Hulse
Down in New Orleans, where the liquor do flow.
Once lived a lady named Kitty DeBow.
Now Kitty was a call girl, and she wasn’t cheap.
She was known to pick your pockets when you fall asleep.
Now Kitty’s papa really didn’t approve of her new craft.
He didn’t want her hanging ‘round the local riffraff.
Now Kitty wouldn’t have it the way her papa said,
So she packed up her belongings with nothing to dread.
Kitty did a rolly in the parking lot.
Papa found out and began to shout.
Kitty bought a ticket for a getaway train.
Now two years running she’s the Mardi Gras queen.
Now Kitty hasn’t seen her papa in days.
Kitty keeps rolling every night and day.
If you’re ever down south where the Gulf meets the river,
Just give her a call, and she’ll escort you to dinner.
(Ya know, I wonder if Kitty ever met the Florida Cracker.
Yeah, he claims he never gets laid. Maybe if he met Kitty, he’d get lucky)