Put It Away

Pimp Daddy Porter must be doin something right,

escorting three fine ladies on his arm tonight.

(Yes ma'am, thank you sir)

Seen in fancy restaurants and struttin’ ‘bout the town,

they use up all the sidewalk so you'd better walk around.

(Look out, here they come)

But at their favorite dive,

that's where it comes alive,

his girls are gonna sing,

so keep plucking on that string.

("Won't you let me take you, take you, take you..")

Give it away, give it away, they'll never give it away,

until your dying day you’re gonna pay.

Put it away, put it away, gotta put that thing away,

if you want to stay, put it away.

The impression you made,

the expression you gave

when the room fell silent 

with all eyes burning on you.

Frustrated paparazzi and the man from Rolling Stone

bow their heads and genuflect as Daddy takes his throne.

(sa-weeet, so sa-weeet)

Keeps his eyes on the gentlemen callers from another time and place,

“I don't care about your name, but I never forget a face.”

(no romance in this slow dance)

Eggs and coffee at the airport bar,

are you thinking that we went to far?

You gotta use all your tools,

to end up with the family jewels.

(It’s time to go)

Give it away, give it away, they'll never give it away,

until your dying day you’re gonna pay.

Put it away, put it away, gotta put that thing away,

if you want to stay, put it away.

Ken Owen,  Van Niddy Music,  January 2013