|Don't Get Married Girls|
IDon't get married girls - you'll sign away your life,
You may start off as a woman but you'll end up as the wife.
You could be a vestal virgin, take the veil and be a nun,
But don't get married girls, for marriage isn't fun.
IIOh it's fine when you're romancing and he plays a lover's part,
You're the roses in his garden, you're the flame that warms his heart.
And his love will last for ever, and he'll promise you the moon,
But just wait until you're wedded and he'll sing a different tune.
IIIYou're his tapioca pudding, you're the dumplings in his stew,
And he'll soon begin to wonder what he ever saw in you.
Still he takes without complaining all the dishes you provide,
But you see he has to have his bit of jam tart on the side.
IVSo don't get married girls - it's very badly paid
You may start off as the mistress but you'll end up as the maid.
Be a daring deep-sea diver, be a polished polyglot,
But don't get married girls, for marriage is a plot.
VHave you seen him in the morning with a face that looks like death,
He's got dandruff on his pillow and tobacco on his breath.
And he wants some reassurance, with his cup of tea in bed,
'Cos he's got worries with the mortgage and the bald patch on his head.
VIAnd he's sure that you're his mother, lays his head upon your breast.
So you try to boost his ego, iron his shirt and warm his vest.
Then you get him off to work - the mighty hunter is restored
And he leaves you there with nothing but the dreams you can't afford.
VIISo don't get married girls for men are all the same,
They just use you when they need you, you'd do better on the game.
Be a call girl, be a stripper. be a hostess, be a whore
But don't get married girls, for marriage is a bore.
VIIIWhen he comes home in the evening, he can hardly spare a look,
All he says is "What's for dinner?", after all you're just the cook.
And he'll clutch you with that "Look what I've got!" sparkle in his eyes,
Like he's entered for a raffle, and won you for a prize,
But when the party's over, you'll be slogging through the sludge,
Half the time a decoration and the other half a drudge.
IXSo don't get married - it'll drive you round the bend
It's the lane without a turning it's the end without an end.
Change your lover every Friday, take up tennis, be a nurse,
But don't get married girls for marriage is a curse.
And you get him off to work - the mighty hunter is restored