I saw a black girl last night called Charmaine Champaign She wasn't a worn out ex-so-and-so, no not from Times Square But she went to Johnny Romero's till it was too hot to handle And she's got nothing to show for it, no money, no love But she could tell me the squarest thing on the jukebox She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat Teach me not to get baited with stage Whispers like, "Can anybody turn me on?" Show me how to make cups and punches It's so simple without a simple syrup You have to gather a quarter pound of young peach leaves On a dry and sunny day And the cost is so uncertain since peach leaves are seldom sold She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat
She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She likes a strong sangaree that shakes for twelve hours Keeps warm for twelve months then sits for six months more Then she's gonna sing me the squarest thing on the jukebox She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat She's gonna get me folked up, fairly beat