My mother had this theory. I found it to be so endearing. She thought that she was a bastard. After my grandmother had passed away, my mother found a serious hobby: genealogy! In her research, she found some holes. Her theory is as follows. She and her young brother Harry are the result of an affair with a Jewish gentleman who lived next door. She and her brother were born about nine months apart, look very similar, and have similar traits. Her two older siblings look like her father and their personalities could not be more different. I’m working on getting you pictures, folks. Trust me. My mom: 5’3, Polish cheeks, dark brown hair. My grandfather: 6’3, red hair. I don’t mean to expose my grandmother’s indiscretions, but her husband was a miserable man who only cared about himself. If it’s true, I say good for her!
The point of the song is that I would sing it to her, because as Cher sings, ‘She was born in the wagon of a traveling show. Her mama had to dance for the money they’d throw.’ I would sing this, and as people who know me, I can NOT sing. Nevertheless, I would sing this to my mother and only managed to harmonize with her cacophonous laughter.