Cups and Punches
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