She’s the one for me, though she ain’t no model,
That girl’s hair colour comes in a bottle.
Purr, peroxide baby, Purr, peroxide baby,
Big blon’ baby won’t you come on over tonight.
Shapely hips, long blonde locks,
Like a 747 she’s got a black box.
She digs rhythm ‘n’ blues and D.M. boots,
Y’know her and the music they got black roots.
Lookin’ puzzled on the street, hanging around,
Locked her keys in the car but the top was down.
Hangin’ out at the surf bunny beach,
I’m using oil and she’s using bleach.