That Woman Talking Blues

I’m walking down the street with a woman named Tess I say “I like your shoes and I love that dress But I hate your hat”. Next minute splat I’m eyeballing the sidewalk laid out flat She’s hit me with a right and I’ve hit the floor That woman’s got an arm like a stevedore On steroids Well I stagger up and I'm down again Grasping my knees to my chest in pain Gasping for a breath, thinking that Death Is feeling for my collar from Underneath She’s landed a kick on the family jewels That woman’s got a hoof just like a mule’s With iron shoes on I get to a point where I’m able to see When she shifts her attention to my knee And my patella is down in the cellar Spinning like a B52 propeller She’s stomping as fast as a Katzenjammer That woman’s got a heel like a steel jackhammer In overdrive By now I’m starting to get real mad And thinking of doing something bad In a Krueger style with a Lecter smile Next thing I know she’s clawing my dial She's cutting grooves and I’m bleeding gallons That woman’s got nails like an eagle’s talons Or a grizzly's; sabre-tooth tiger's; Mammoth's So I’m backing away as fast as a cur But there ain’t no way I can outpace her Scratching and biting; dirty fighting From a ringside seat it might look exciting Then she lowers her head like a charging bison That woman’s been taking lessons from Tyson I’d rather face him; he's a pussycat, a pussycat Then all of a sudden the storm blows over She’s hugging me tight and calling me 'Lover' Laughing and crying; real deep sighing Kissing-it-better and my-oh-mying And just as sudden I’m feeling no pain That woman’s worth a beating now and again I just gotta remember not to mention hats No hats Never hats No no no no no Not hats Shave and a haircut, two bits Cha, cha, cha I'm gonna provide a Little rider Not a jockeyJust an added bit That might be a decider I want to be advised Is this tune plagiarised? I got a feeling in my water That it owes a lot to Minnie the Moocher If not all of it The other thing about this song To what genre does it belong? I ain't got a high degree Of musical theory Can't read music Can't play an instrument Can … sing a bit If you'll permit Blowing my own trumpet Air trumpet Yeah, air trumpet! It's better than a real one I am sure You don't need no embouchure Bibida, bibida, bibida. That's all folks! That’s all she wrote