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My dear Marquis, why must you be, |
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So loathe to use your eyes? |
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When you stop and stare |
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Take a lot more care |
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And closely scrusitnise |
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My fingers, my ankles, my feet. |
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Ha ha ha ha ha |
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How shapely and trim and petite. |
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Ha ha ha ha ha |
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Both accent and inflection, |
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Show polish to perfection. |
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Such graces |
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Are the traces of our old elite. |
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Such graces |
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Are the traces of our old elite. |
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I marvel how a man like you, |
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Could fail to see my blood runs blue! |
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What a funny, ha ha ha |
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Situation, ha ha ha |
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What a startling, ha ha ha |
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revelation, ha ha ha ha ha |
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What a funny, ha ha ha |
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Situation, ha ha ha ha! |
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Marquis oh what a wag you are! |
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Profiles they say |
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Gives the game away. |
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When formed with classic grace |
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If the head on view, |
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Isn't much to you, |
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Then look at me sideface! |
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What evidence more can there be, ha ha ha ha ha! |
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I sing at soiress without fee, ha ha ha ha ha! |
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Bestowing my attention |
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With lofty condescension. |
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Such graces |
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Are the traces of a pedigree. |
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Such graces |
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Are the traces of a pedigree. |
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All's one to you though I'm afraid |
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Because you love a parlour maid! |
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What a funny, ha ha ha |
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Situation, ha ha ha |
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What a startling, ha ha ha |
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Revelation, ha ha ha ha ha |
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What a funny, ha ha ha |
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Situation, ha ha ha |
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{Charlotte vocalizing} |
