In a shabby little office On a shabby little street Sits a shabby little doctor In his shabby little seat Every shabby little secret How he sure loves to betray He will give you shabby treatment Every night and every day Doctor Psyche the cut-rate head shrinker On mixed-up heads he likes to tinker I only see him when my brain starts to snap This slouch has no couch, I hang onto a strap He never got his PhD In book-learning he really lacks He ducked all his classes in psychiatry Now he's known as the king of the quacks Doctor Psyche the cut-rate head shrinker On mixed-up heads he likes to tinker And though by my stories he's seldom impressed He's helped many women get things off their chest He never got his PhD His mind has been so hard to reach His Freudian textbooks are something to see With trading stamps pasted in each Doctor Psyche the cut-rate head shrinker On mixed-up heads he likes to tinker I learned that his technique is oh so refined From all my fixations he helps me unwind And he tells me quite gravely it's all in my mind Doctor Psyche the cut-rate head shrinker