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There's a girl I simply dote on |
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She has no single flaw |
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A simple skirt and coat on |
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And a sailor hat of straw |
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Yet she looks more splendid |
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Than all the world today |
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She'll soon be my intended |
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Perhaps that's why I say |
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It's you I love |
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Not your hat, your frock or your glove |
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I like you in velvet |
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I love you in plush |
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In satin you are just |
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Like your own lovely blush |
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You're charming in silk |
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Or a plain woollen shawl |
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But you're simply delightful |
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With nothing on at all |
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Maybe you'll be in your balldress |
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Or you perhaps I'll find, |
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Dressed in your "What'd you call dress?" |
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You're oh well, never mind |
