200 Years Old

I was sittin' in a breakfast room in Allentown, Pennsylvania,

Six o'clock in the morning, got up too early, it was a terrible mistake...

Sittin' there face-to-face with a 75 cent glass of orange juice

About as big as my finger and a bowl of horribly foreshortened cornflakes,

And I said to myself: "This is the life!" . . .

She's two hundred years old

So mean she couldn't grow no lips

Boy, she'd be in trouble if she

Tried to grow a mustache

She's two hundred years old

Squattin' down & pockin' up

In front of the juke box

Like she had true religion, boy

Like she had true religion

She's two hundred years old

Hoy hoy, 200 years old

Half of this, none of that,

One-fifty oh squattin'

Yeah-ah, ain't she got

Religion now, boy