Dressed as a "bag," my tights on right,
Terpsichore's* what I am.
I'm gonna kick high as a kite with my gams.
Going to work late--what I tell my wife.
I'm going to the place
Where long lithe legs take flight.

And I think it's gonna be long chorus line.
If they went to the Music Hall, they'd find
I'm not the man they think I am at home,
Oh no, no, no.
I'm a Rockettes man,
Rockettes man, turning on the ruse up here as "Joan."

Marred for life they'd be if they saw, my kids,
Me dolled up like a belle,
Raising my legs, sporting mascaraed eyelids.
I would try to make them understand:
A second job--no need to freak.

A Rockettes man, a Rockettes man.

It's not kinky, just a job, another line. . . .