| Slick Willie was a shoeshine boy
|
| Workin' downtown, 42nd Street
|
| He had a little racket dealin' out some packets
|
| That no one ever saw him eat
|
| Well Rita was a go-go dancer
|
| In a bar just across the street
|
| While Willie shined shoes Rita swung her boobs
|
| To a hunky, funky, junkier beat
|
| Put a little shine on your shoes
|
| Dress up nice, 'cause you’re in paradise
|
| And you chase away the mean ol' blues
|
| Well Willie knew Rita danced topless
|
| And Rita knew Willie shined shoe
|
| Because very night among the flashing lights
|
| They’d come out 'n' say «How do you do?»
|
| There each went about their business
|
| Until the break of day
|
| Then they count out the bucks while the garbage trucks
|
| Tow the rest of the night away
|
| Put a little shine on your shoes
|
| Dress up nice, 'cause you’re in paradise
|
| And you chase away the mean ol' blues
|
| Dooby doop doo
|
| Doobly doobly doo
|
| Waah waah
|
| Dooby doop doo
|
| Oooh oooh
|
| Well Willie was found in an alley
|
| And Rita got stabbed by a drunk
|
| A telephone call replaced «The Belle of the Ball»
|
| And there was someone else dealin' out junk
|
| Well if you can’t see the moral of this story
|
| Well then you can’t see the trees for the wood
|
| Because the things that are done in the name of fun
|
| Can cost a whole lot more than they should
|
| Put a little shine on your shoes
|
| Dress up nice, 'cause you’re in paradise
|
| And you chase away the mean ol'…
|
| Put a little shine on your shoes
|
| Dress up nice, 'cause you’re in paradise
|
| And you chase away the mean oool' blu |