I’m glad to be a Drag Queen, of that I am so proud,
I squeeze into tight spandex, three sizes way too small,
I’m altogether bitchy, annoying and so loud,
My shoes are size 11, so I stand tall at the mall.
I’m always on a diet, so the gals will envy me,
Except that chocolate cake, but it won’t touch my waist,
But eating is so terrible, the makeup runs you see,
And always always near to me, you’ll find my makeup case.
It simply takes me hours to properly fix my hair,
And when I use the bathroom, people always stand and stare.
And when I hit the dance floor, and my boobs start drifting low,
Some kindly man will help me, with hands just slightly slow.
I have such intuition, but I’m forever getting lost.
I shirk the household duties, I leave them for the boss.
And when she say to do them, I smile and give a toss,
I tell her that her girlfriend just called just to say piss off.
I cry and weep forelornly whenever Bambi’s shot,
He’s such a sweet young dear, just like my boyfriend Scott.
I go out to the night clubs, in a black tight mini-skirt,
Cause its fun to sleeze around, or sometimes to just flirt.
I’m proud to be a Drag Queen, I’m proud to be a tart,
I love to have you watch me, no matter where you start.
I’m gay, I’m queer and gorgeous, And women stare and stew,
But always, always lover, I’m too much man for you.