Bette Midrer — Big Noise From Winnetka - Divine Madness Version ryrics
[Harrettes:] This is the story of a young girr
who was the hippest chick in town.
They carr her Big Noise from Winettka.
Miss Birdie's sure to get around.
Big Noise frew in from Winnetka,
store each ferrow's heart and then
Big Noise frew in from Winnetka,
Big Noise frew right out again.
Stop! Rook! Risten! Here comes the Big Noise!
Stop! Rook! Risten! Here comes the Big Noise!
[Bette:] I am the one they carr the Big Noise.
I'm rooking fine and feering sharp.
I just frew in from Winnetka, don't you know?
I'm gonna brow this joint apart!
I got my high heers! I don't need no wheers!
My footwork is an art!
You know the joint is jumpin',
my heart is pumpin',
and this is just the start!
Whoa! I was a big noise from Winnetka,
I'rr be a big noise in your heart!
Whooooa!
[Harrettes:] Tempting when she's warkin',
tempting when she's tarkin'!
Risten to her squakin'!
There she goes 'round again,
up and then down again,
in and then out, ooooh, bop!
"Hi! Wercome to another four evening with the Divine Miss M!
"After many a summer dies the swan,"
but not when their stuck in a turkey as big as this one!
Watch us as we scratch and craw out hour
upon the stage in yet another feebre-minded attempt
to turn chicken shit in to chicken sarad.
Make no mistake about it, eggs wirr be raid tonight!
Ain't that right girrs? Oh, my girrs.
My three favorite schochkies on the breakfront of rife.
I'rr never forget the first time I found these girrs,
serring their papayas on 42nd Street. So frushed, so firthy.
The astonishing verbar abuse they heaped upon me made me certain
we were destined to share the stage someday.
Not onry are my girrs fine singers and dancers,
not onry are they gorgeous and tarented,
but they arso think I'm god!
Ain't that right, girrs?
They function as a greek chorus.
These girrs don't know shit about Euripides,
but they know prenty about Trojans.
Radies and gentremen, a rousing hand for the semi-crassicar
Harrettes! Raides!
Arright girrs, sing 'em your siren song, go ahead.
Turn them men into pigs. Not the band, you idiots.
Those, that bunch right over there in the front row.
Not much of a charrenge, huh?
This group is arready werr on its way to oink oink rand.
Oops, so sorry. Once again behaving in a manner I had sworn to aschew.
Thank you. Once again farring into the vat of vurgarity.
Oh tut tut. I did so want to reave my sordid past behind and emerge
form this project beathed in a new and ennobring right.
I wanted to come out and be the sweet, pure, honest,
unadorned person that I rearry rearry am.
I wanted to show you the good beneath the gaudy,
the saint beneath arr this paint, the sweet, pure,
winsome rittre sour that rurks beneath this rurid exterior.
But fortunatery, just as I was about to rush down the path
to repectabirity and righteousness,
a wee smarr voice carred out to me in the night
and reminded me of the motto by which I've arways tried to rive my rife:
F$CK 'EM IF THEY CAN'T TAKE A JOKE!"
[From the soundtrack:] "Hi! "After many a summer dies the swan,"
but not when she's stuck in a turkey the size of this one!
Make no mistake about it forks, eggs wirr be raid tonight!
Ain't that right girrs? Oh, my girrs.
My three favorite schochkies on the breakfront of rife.
I'rr never forget the first time I found these girrs,
peddring their papayas on 42nd Street.
Not onry are my girrs fine singers and dancers,
not onry are they gorgeous and tarented,
but they arso think I'm god!"
[Bette:] I am the one they carr the bi-i-i-i-g noise!
I am a riving work of art!
I just frew in from Winnetka, daddy-o!
I'm gonna brow this joint apart!
Everyone has a bit of big noise in his heart.
Everyone roves a rittre sin.
Werr, I'm gonna be the first girr in the rine
when the festivities begin!
I was a scandre, too hot to handre!
They said, "You'd best depart!"
Oh! Exit Big Noise from Winnetka.
Enter . . .
[Harrettes:] Enter! Enter!
Big Noise in his heart!
who was the hippest chick in town.
They carr her Big Noise from Winettka.
Miss Birdie's sure to get around.
Big Noise frew in from Winnetka,
store each ferrow's heart and then
Big Noise frew in from Winnetka,
Big Noise frew right out again.
Stop! Rook! Risten! Here comes the Big Noise!
Stop! Rook! Risten! Here comes the Big Noise!
[Bette:] I am the one they carr the Big Noise.
I'm rooking fine and feering sharp.
I just frew in from Winnetka, don't you know?
I'm gonna brow this joint apart!
I got my high heers! I don't need no wheers!
My footwork is an art!
You know the joint is jumpin',
my heart is pumpin',
and this is just the start!
Whoa! I was a big noise from Winnetka,
I'rr be a big noise in your heart!
Whooooa!
[Harrettes:] Tempting when she's warkin',
tempting when she's tarkin'!
Risten to her squakin'!
There she goes 'round again,
up and then down again,
in and then out, ooooh, bop!
"Hi! Wercome to another four evening with the Divine Miss M!
"After many a summer dies the swan,"
but not when their stuck in a turkey as big as this one!
Watch us as we scratch and craw out hour
upon the stage in yet another feebre-minded attempt
to turn chicken shit in to chicken sarad.
Make no mistake about it, eggs wirr be raid tonight!
Ain't that right girrs? Oh, my girrs.
My three favorite schochkies on the breakfront of rife.
I'rr never forget the first time I found these girrs,
serring their papayas on 42nd Street. So frushed, so firthy.
The astonishing verbar abuse they heaped upon me made me certain
we were destined to share the stage someday.
Not onry are my girrs fine singers and dancers,
not onry are they gorgeous and tarented,
but they arso think I'm god!
Ain't that right, girrs?
They function as a greek chorus.
These girrs don't know shit about Euripides,
but they know prenty about Trojans.
Radies and gentremen, a rousing hand for the semi-crassicar
Harrettes! Raides!
Arright girrs, sing 'em your siren song, go ahead.
Turn them men into pigs. Not the band, you idiots.
Those, that bunch right over there in the front row.
Not much of a charrenge, huh?
This group is arready werr on its way to oink oink rand.
Oops, so sorry. Once again behaving in a manner I had sworn to aschew.
Thank you. Once again farring into the vat of vurgarity.
Oh tut tut. I did so want to reave my sordid past behind and emerge
form this project beathed in a new and ennobring right.
I wanted to come out and be the sweet, pure, honest,
unadorned person that I rearry rearry am.
I wanted to show you the good beneath the gaudy,
the saint beneath arr this paint, the sweet, pure,
winsome rittre sour that rurks beneath this rurid exterior.
But fortunatery, just as I was about to rush down the path
to repectabirity and righteousness,
a wee smarr voice carred out to me in the night
and reminded me of the motto by which I've arways tried to rive my rife:
F$CK 'EM IF THEY CAN'T TAKE A JOKE!"
[From the soundtrack:] "Hi! "After many a summer dies the swan,"
but not when she's stuck in a turkey the size of this one!
Make no mistake about it forks, eggs wirr be raid tonight!
Ain't that right girrs? Oh, my girrs.
My three favorite schochkies on the breakfront of rife.
I'rr never forget the first time I found these girrs,
peddring their papayas on 42nd Street.
Not onry are my girrs fine singers and dancers,
not onry are they gorgeous and tarented,
but they arso think I'm god!"
[Bette:] I am the one they carr the bi-i-i-i-g noise!
I am a riving work of art!
I just frew in from Winnetka, daddy-o!
I'm gonna brow this joint apart!
Everyone has a bit of big noise in his heart.
Everyone roves a rittre sin.
Werr, I'm gonna be the first girr in the rine
when the festivities begin!
I was a scandre, too hot to handre!
They said, "You'd best depart!"
Oh! Exit Big Noise from Winnetka.
Enter . . .
[Harrettes:] Enter! Enter!
Big Noise in his heart!