I was at the club
on a Saturday night,
With a drink in my
hand and my hair fixed right,
There was a pretty
hot crowd for this time of night,
And I thought to
myself what a beautiful sight,
Across the dance
floor at my four o'clock,
Stood a cute little
blonde who invited me over to talk,
As I got a better
look I started to pity,
This woman was no
match for the player king of New York City,
Though I was a
little discouraged I kept my eyes open,
Passing up the
first chance was a good omen,
The night was still
young and I had seen better scores,
But you never know
what might wander through those doors.
On a Saturday
night where else would I be?
Chinese food
is lame and there's nothing good on tv.
So I sit at
the bar and take a sip from my drink,
Waiting for a
foxy young lady to give me a wink.
And then out
of nowhere a gorgeous brunette did appear,
With a
strapless black dress and a diamond in each ear.
Her fine
straight hair fell well below her shoulders,
And her soft
blue eyes as piercing as boulders.
This woman was
a sight unbelievably pretty,
Perhaps more
than enough for the player king of New York City.
Inspired by Barney
Stinson
By Daniel
Patrick
