by Jeffrey Murrell


Mrs. Terry is a highland lady,
She's a member of the opposite race.
She likes to party and she likes to dance.
But don't you know the bitch has no class?

Slinky eyes from vicious stock ...
Chit-chat (that girly talk)!
Painted nails, florescent face;
She's seen it all--you know she sets the pace.

She has a pointed head.

She has goods from exclusive shops.
(And lots of batteries so they never stop!)
You can tell by the way she walks
She's just another strutting sack of guts!

Grab some Chevis from behind the bar!
Send the chauffeur around with the car!
Things to do! So much to see!
(But don't you worry--she'll be back for tea!)

She's got a pointed head!

Italian shoes, Riviera sun;
She exudes Yves St. Lorain.
Yesterday was such a bore!
Mrs. Terry wants more and more.

A jealous lover with a loaded gun
Shot a hole through Mrs. Terry's bouffant!
Too bad he missed, dropped the gun and fled.
(He should have made sure that he shot her dead!)

She still has a pointed head, though!