Pretty women wonder where my secret lies. I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size but when I start to tell them, they think I'm telling lies. I say, it's in the reach of my arms, the span of my hips, the stride of my step, the curl of my lips. I'm a woman phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, that's me. I walk into a room just as cool as you please, and to a man, the fellows stand or fall down on their knees. Then they swarm around me, a hive of honey bees. I say, it's the fire in my eyes, and the flash of my teeth, the swing in my waist, and the joy in my feet. I'm a woman phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, that's me. Men themselves have wondered what they see in me. They try so much, but they can't touch my inner mystery. When I try to show them they say they still can't see. I say, It's in the arch of my back, the sun of my smile, the ride of my breasts, the grace of my style. I'm a woman phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, that's me. Now you understand just why my head's not bowed. I don't shout or jump about or have to talk real loud. When you see me passing it ought to make you proud. I say, It's in the click of my heels, the bend of my hair, the palm of my hand, the need of my care, 'Cause I'm a woman phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, that's me.