Felice and Her Snake

There’s a 2-bit burlesque house that keeps me awake

With a sign advertising “Felice and Her Snake”.

“She’s hot as a pistol”, say the sailors in town

But I just saw her leaving as the morning came around.

Oh, the sun struck her shades as she slouched out the door.

Fiery-hot she was not.  She was shot.  She was sore.

And she carried a port-a-pet from which came no bark

On her way to some motel to sleep until dark.

Oh, Felice, your plight won’t leave me in peace.

I lie awake nights wondering if your snake bites.

Now you travel the country and the crowd yells for more.

One more squiggly wriggle. One more wiggly encore.

I can’t help but wonder why you chose that career.

You must really love show business, that much seems clear.

And you and that serpent, had each of you known

That you’d be dynamite together and nothing much alone?

Oh, some search for happiness to no avail

For that perfect relationship that cannot fail.

You travel the country, from truckstop to shore,

A reptile your companion, in love and on tour.