I met a guy the other day

He said he had it all figured out

He claimed he was ecstatic

He proved it with a shout

"I like hippie chicks" he said "

They're not so damn dumb

They don't sing like Ethel Merman

They don't imitate nuns"

"They comb their hair with porcupines

And loofah their feet

And they become indignant

When you threaten them with meat

Their windows grin like pumpkins

Filled with candles and beads

Their beds are all futonic

And there's babies on their knees"

"But my mother wears a hat" he said "

Extruded from a tank

And my sister reads good housekeeping

And worships at the bank

My grandma loves Pat Robertson

Says he's it that's that

And my wife says I'm a lunatic

But hippie chicks are where it's at"

He told me this while revving up

His brand new pick up truck

He wore a leather hat and shades

Above a twelve pack gut

"I know where they got hippie chicks

They're all in Santa Cruz"

Then he jammed a tape in his Blaupunkt

And drove off born to lose

'Cause although he got the message

He was deaf to the news

There are no chicks in Santa Cruz