Marcy the Birthday Chick

to the tune of Taylor the Latte Boy, by Marcy Heisler and Zina Goldrich

Marcy is an old friend, and I wrote this for an important birthday, which was not her 30th.

Marcy the Birthday Chick

There’s a girl who works with Zina,
And her talent’s undeniable.
You can tell it’s undeniable because of many songs.
I decided for this party, I would like to bring a present,
‘Cause a friend should bring a present,
But a friend should not buy thongs.
It was crucial at this party
I should sing my lovely present.
I should sing my lovely present
In an a capella way.
So I jotted down some lyrics,
And I hope that Marcy likes them,
And I ran it all by Zina,
To be sure it scanned okay.
And I ran it all by Zina, who pointed out my voice is lame.
So I asked if she would help me
Or at least would help me spread around the blame.

Marcy, the birthday chick,
Bring her nakhes, bring her shtick.
Marcy, the birthday chick . . .
We love you, we love you, we love you.

Well I had to get my nerve up
To perform my little parody.
If you’re going to do a parody,
You have to make it good.
And to sing it at a party?
Well, you have to have an ego,
Which has never been my problem,
So I figured that I could.
It should be not flip but clever,
And should never mention latte,
Well, unless it’s Lotte Lenya,
‘Cause I sort of sing like her.
Here on in she’ll flip whenever
Someone mentions Lotte Lenya,
And a little Lotte Lenya, is a lotta, as it were.
But to bring it back to Marcy, let’s tell her that we think she’s swell.
And the hell with Lotte Lenya—and the hell with rhythm, tone, and pitch as well.

Marcy, the birthday chick,
Bring her nakhes, bring her shtick.
Marcy, the birthday chick . . .
We love you, we love you, we love you.

You know that she’s the kind of girl
Who’s fun and smart and flirty.
And nobody believes in a couple of years
That this little baby face will turn thirty!

Marcy, the birthday chick,
Bring her nakhes, bring her shtick.
Marcy, the birthday chick . . .
We love you, we love you, we love you.

Marcy is grown, Lord, keep the pony.
Better you should send her a man—or a Tony!
Marcy, the birthday chick . . .
We love you, we love you, we love you.
We love you, we love you, we love you.

Speak Your Mind

*