I once knew a girl from Calcutta

Whose breath stunk like old dookie butta.

Her brother loved booze

And getting tattoos

And he needed a new pair of shoes.

Their neighbor, the chef on a mission

Needed shiny new gear for his kitchen.

They lived down in Dade,

Where they worked every day,

Just for rent and electric and clothes.

So they needed a place they could go,

Seven days out the week and save dough.

Paying rock-bottom price,

Having double fun twice,

And returning with something to show.

I said, baby, hold on to your chest,

But that city up north to the west,

Got cheap mouthwash and kicks,

Cooking pots, pans, and lids,

Drive-in movies and whips,

Plus a corndog and chips,

It's the Swap Shop

You already know.