[Spoken:]
The folk history of America is the history of its heros.
Big workin' men, like John Henry, Paul Bunyan and Big Bad John.

But today, I'd like to introduce a new folk hero.
He didn't work in a mine or on a railroad
or any of those strenuous occupations.

He worked in a beauty salon and his name was Bruce.

[Sung, poorly (it's more like speaking):]

Well, every day at the salon, you can see him arrive.
He stood six foot six, weighed one-oh-five.
He's kinda narrow at the shoulders, narrow in the hips.

With a curl in his hair and a smile on his lips.
Big Bruce. Big Bad Bruce.


No one seemed to know where Bruce came from.
He kinda swished into town and stayed all alone.
Never said much, kind-a quiet and shy.

And when he spoke at all, it was just to say "Hi!"
Big Bruce. Big Bad Bruce.


Same say he came from New Orleans.
Where he had a social group called The Cajun Queens.
Some say Hollywood or Beverly Hills,

Where he got arrested for passing three-dollar bills.
That's Bruce.


Then came the day of that terrible fire.
Something went wrong in the number five dryer.
Into the chaos of those matronly caves,

Went Big Bad Bruce, just a-fannin' the flames.
Big Bruce. Big Bad Brucie-Wucie.


Well, the flames grew higher and the fire got worse.
And someone heard Brucie cry, "Mercy, I forgot my purse!"
Into the fire with a squeal and a shout.

We waited an hour, but he never came out.
Poor Bruce. Poor old Bruce.


Where that salon once stood is a grocery store.
But his name will live forevermore.
In the annals of time, and in the Hall of Fame,

As a gay young cat who went down in flames.
Big Bruce.
(Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo)

You might say this is a big kind of fairy tale.
(Ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo)
[Fade.]

(Ooo-ooo...)