on any given saturday you can find mr. ray
at the end of the bar, cuban cigar, listening to us play
mr. ray is a pool-shark, he's a wild card, he's the son of a mambo king
a one-man party, it's always mardi gras when ray makes the scene

but listen to the hush fall over the crowd as she walked into the room
raven hair, tall and fine, all smile and legs
and though the young boys are falling in line
to try their best to catch her eye
looks like she's found a seat there next to mr. ray

she put the whammy on mr. ray, she put the whammy on mr. ray
that's what the small-town doctor say, she gonna cast a spell upon you
she had her pick of them younger boys, makin' all of that younger noise
now it's time to put away your toys, jes' like your mama told you

now mr. ray he got his mojo right, got his game uptight,
he gonna play the mack
but then she hit him with her x-ray eyes
and his soul disguise begins to crack
she press against him like flowers and the hours
flyin' by like a runaway train
she flash like lightning burning bright
with a smile like a candle flame

well, she run her hand up his arm,
hit the fire alarm and ray begins to sweat
the room is spinning hard and he is sinking fast
throws back a shot of tequila to kick down the fever,
she whispers in his ear
'you better get your groove on, ray, and ask the senorita to dance...'

she put the whammy on mr. ray, she put the whammy on mr. ray
that's what the teenage daughters say,
she gonna work her voodoo on you
you know the girl she don't mess around,
she wasn't looking for no barroom clown
now mr. ray is melting down, jes' like a plastic soldier

it's getting mighty rare these days that we see mr. ray
yes he's off on a romance tip, a lovebird trip, but that's okay
'cause this life is a free ride sittin' pool-side
when youre the king of everything
ella es su novia bonita with a diamond ring

but every now and again they slide in and the party starts to roll
we play the mambo and she takes him by the hand
then he gonna dance her, romance her, dip, never trip,
all smooth like cherry cream
he smiles his money smile, 'cause mr. ray is the man
she put the whammy on mr. ray, she put the whammy on mr. ray

and when she hear the music play, she gonna cast a spell upon you
you know the girl she don't mess around
she picked him up and she mowed him down
and mr. ray is glory-bound, jes' like a hallelujah

she ain't lookin' over here, she ain't steppin' over there
mr. ray, she only has eyes for you...

In Baltimore, the commercials for Mr. Ray's Hair Weave have become a kitsch institution. The chorus came from a comment made by a guitarist friend of mine- the lead singer was getting hit on madly by a guy with a bad comb-over- 'Man, she really put the whammy on Mr. Ray, huh?'