They hide behind the pot in the Five- Star loo
To get the story and the inside view
They have hidden mikes to catch whispered I love u's
And microscopes that spot any hidden tattoes
A lovers tiff…
They are the first ones to whiff
And they could hang on a cliff
To get a shot of the miff
They risk getting their heads caught in windows of cars
Popping flash bulbs and thrusting mikes at the movie stars
They spend nights in a row snooping at the bars
They could die of cancer from the smoke of cigars
God bless them, All members of this brave clan
In a profession not meant for a faint hearted man
For it often requires crawling under a makeup van
They are called the paparazzi, and I am their fan
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