Fat City Kitty Cat

In Gentilly she reigns as Bastet, the daughter of Ra, An unrepentant drop of golden sun. Then come some rascal Baphomet, an outcast by law, A desperado conman on the run. She teased him with her laser pointer cat’s eyes To get him sniffing ‘round her litter box. He jumped at something spooky and she got his goat; A perfect puss and booty paradox. She’s a Fat City kitty cat Sitting in her parlor with a Ouija board. And she’s conjuring visions of feline intent, Clawing at the night for her reward. In Jefferson Parish she covers the odds With fifty shades of gray behind the door. Her menu offers Creole faire on Sundays; She’ll let you taste her etouffee, and more. In Algiers she appears like an omen, Then vanishes again as sure as sin. You can bet an honest dollar on her virtue, And lose it when she plays her violin. She’s a Fat City kitty cat. Her Tarot cards can turn a pretty trick. Her rivals try to plagiarize her voodoo. She isn’t just another Cajun chick. No, she’s a Fat City kitty cat, A diva with a loyal entourage. She’ll do her Fat City this and that, And treat you to a Bourbon Street massage.