Blue jeans make me look so lazy. Seamstress checks my can
And my thighs. Then she smiles. Says, "You look like a suit man."
Haberdasher will take cash 'r credit cards in hand.
I'm not skinny, so she'll pimp me up, but charge me many grand.

A jeans freak, I used to be
Hanging off my hips of flab
In my back
You saw crack
The buns weren't hard�in fact, they'd sag.

Pantaloons man, when I'd stand.
There was nothing holding 'em.
No hooks on, they'd sink down
It was lurid�you'd see my bum.

She says, "You must try chenille
Yes, my dear, so have no fear�
No one will look at you queerly."
Then she says loudly, boldly:

"Bold those clothes�now try these pants, sir.
How about a shirt and tie, eh?
I say, you'd look sweet in linen
Do not worry, you will not look gay.