Ten Cents A Dance - Ruth Etting
Ten cents a dance, that's what they pay me. Gosh, how they weigh me down. Ten cents a dance, pansies and rough guys; Tough guys who tear my gown. Seven to midnight I hear drums. Loudly the saxophone blows. Trumpets are tearing my eardrums. Customers crush my toes. Sometimes I think I've found my hero, But it's a queer romance. All that you need is a ticket. Come on, big boy, ten cents a dance!
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