The Losing My Fleabag Blues

A standard 12-bar blues… as sung by a flea.

I’m catching me the next dog out of town
‘Cause ever since that collar started hanging around
Rover’s neck
My life is a wreck
You know I know I’m losing my fleabag
Yeah, that’s a drag

I got a couple thousand mouths to feed
But Daddy can’t get all the food his little babies need
What a mess
No time for finesse
My wife, she knows I’m losing my fleabag
And man, she nags

Old Rover was the perfect catch
And me, the itch he couldn’t scratch
But now, I’m just not feeling well—it’s
All this doggone flea repellent!

So get me on the next dog out of town
I haven’t got a future with that collar around
Rover’s neck
I’m living on spec
But not for long—I’m losing my fleabag
And that’s a drag
That collar means I’m losing my fleabag
I wanna gag
I know it’s so—I’m losing my fleabag
And I won’t beg