(David Wheat/Bill Loughborough)
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With Ruby and Ollie soon over the hill, for marrying Tommy there still is no pill.
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We're the world's last authentic playboys, just three fun-loving ne'er-do-wells.
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Our whole attitude says life's a gay toy to be played with and raced through pell mell.
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Acapulco each winter for fishing, then summer to Bar Harbor, Maine.
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If the cycle gets boringly vicious, we shall try Monte Carlo again.
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We're the world's last authentic playboys. We were born thirty years too late.
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Though we're blessed with savoir-faire and rare boys, both these virtues are useless at fate.
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I fought bulls at a Plaza de Toros. Chased gorillas around in the trees.
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Such adventures now make me feel morose and blase as a playboy can be.
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We're the world's last authentic playboys, just a trio of rogues on the loose.
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We pursue life while searching for new joys, just ahead of the shoot gun and noose.
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When they find the abominable snowman, running nude through the snow four miles high
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They'll say, "Are you an ape?" I'll say, "No, man. I just thought I'd give this roll a try."
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We're the world's last authentic playboys, just three lunatics still at large.
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If you're female and we think you're pretty, you're in luck, it's all free. There's no charge.
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'Til taxes get lower, we're all that are left; three authentic playboys too lazy for theft.
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The World's Last Authentic Playboys
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| The Kingston Trio |
