I put on my right tights,
and sharp wit killer heels,
lippy application rites,
facts are not concealed,
coz’ I’m a quiz whore, baby!
Brassiere holds the data,
recall with retinol,
this pub’s my alma mater,
the weekly protocol,
coz’ I’m a quiz whore, baby!
Twisting golden strands,
that prize money bought,
revise; refill; my hair spray cans,
avoid the score of naught,
coz’ I’m a quiz whore, baby!
A lady of letters am I,
try to keep up with me,
on a panel, I reach the sky,
to answer, is to breathe,
coz’ I’m a quiz whore, baby!