albert archer was a sugar daddy
who played golf in the woods without a caddy
he had a sweetie pie who loved him a lot
she was chummy with the chauffeur until she got caught
the sweetie’s name was sally mae
what else could it be, i hear you say
the chauffeur’s cognomen was buck brick
he was reputed to know a trick
what sympathy he got was token
and yet poor archer’s heart was broken
he drank some whiskey, he drank some gin
but was never quite the same man again
archer played the market and got his share
his father was a bull and his mama was a bear
at golf and squash he was only fair
ran and lost for the senate but he didn’t care
archer was a fellow like you and me
all he wanted was to be free
he wasn’t the best and he wasn’t the worst
and never suffered from an ancient curse
the last time i saw archer he was standing in the street
swaying a little bit on his feet
suddenly the wind blew his straw hat away
like all of us, he had seen better days
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