Pads, Paws and Claws - Elvis Costello

She’s a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife

But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life

But when he’s full of that beer-champagne

She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws

And if he should wake up in some terrible dive

And he don’t know if he’s so-so

But he’s so surprised he’s alive

«Come on little honey, let me under your hive»

She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws

She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt

He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt

Anything wearing a necklace

He thinks of claws scratching his back he’s

going out there he’s not coming back

She’s got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays

And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways

'Til he’s drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare

She could be in pictures if she wasn’t all covered in fur

He’s coming home now and here’s the surprise

You wouldn’t believe the lies that he tries

She cut him down to her favourite size

She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws

She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws