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His name is Mr Snow |
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And an upstanding man is he |
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He comes home every night |
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In his round-bottomed boat |
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With a netful of herrings from the sea |
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An almost perfect beau |
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As fine as a girl could wish |
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But he spends so much time |
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In his round-bottomed boat |
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That he can't seem to lose the smell of fish |
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The first time he kissed me |
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The whiff of his clothes |
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Knocked me flat on the floor of the room |
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But now that I love him my heart's in my nose |
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And fish is my favourite perfume |
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As nosey folks might know |
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And a fast talking man is he |
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and he said \"Miss Titheridge |
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I'd like it fine |
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If I could be wed with a wife. |
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And indeed Miss Titheridge |
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If you'll be mine. |
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I'll be yours for the rest of my life.\" |
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Next moment we were promised |
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And now my life's in a maze |
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And all I can do |
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Is look forward to |
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That wonderful day of days |
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When I marry Mr Snow |
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The flowers will be buzzing |
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with the hum of bees |
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The birds will make a racket |
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In the church-yard trees |
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When I marry Mr Snow |
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Then it's off to home we'll go |
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The both of us will look a little |
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dreamy-eyed |
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We'll drive into a paddock by the ocean side |
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Where the salty breezes blow |
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He'll carry me across the threshold |
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And I'll be as meek as a lamb |
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And he'll set me in a seat |
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And I'll say kinda sweet |
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Well, Mr Snow, \"Here I am!\" |
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Then I'll kiss him so he'll know |
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That everything will be as right |
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as right can be, |
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And living in a cottage by the sea with me |
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How I'll love that Mr Snow |
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That young sea-faring |
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Bold and daring |
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May be slightly overbearing |
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My own Mr Snow |
