benjamin.coudrin
14 years ago
6 changed files with 242 additions and 35 deletions
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\selectlanguage{english} |
\selectlanguage{english} |
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\songcolumns{2} |
\songcolumns{1} |
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\beginsong{Don't Get Married Girls}[by=Leon Rosselson] |
\beginsong{Don't Get Married Girls}[by=Leon Rosselson] |
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\beginverse |
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\[Mim]Don't get married, girls. You'll \[La]sign away your \[Mim]life. |
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You may \[Sol]start off as a \[Ré]woman, but you'll \[Do]end up \[Ré]as the \[Mim]wife. |
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You could be a vestal virgin, take the \[La]veil, or be a \[Mim]nun, |
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But \[Sol]don't get \[Ré]married, girls, for \[Do]marriage isn't \[Si7]fun. |
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Oh, it's \[Mi]great when you're romancing and he plays the lover's \[Si7]part. |
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You're the \[La]flowers in his \[Mi]garden. You're the flame that warms his \[Si7]heart. |
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And his \[La]love will last for\[Mi]ever and he'll \[La]promise you the \[Mi]moon, |
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But just \[Si7]wait until you're \[Mi]married and he'll \[Si7]sing a different \[Mi]tune. |
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You're his \[La]tapioca \[Mi]pudding. You're the \[La]dumplings in his \[Mi]stew, |
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But he'll \[La]soon begin to \[Mi]wonder what he ever saw in \[Si7]you. |
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Still he \[La]takes without com \[Mi]plaining all the \[La]dishes you pro\[Mi]vide, |
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But you \[Si7]know he likes to \[Mi]have a little \[Si7]jam tart on the \[Mi]side. |
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\endverse |
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\beginverse |
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So don't get married, girls. It's very badly paid. |
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You may start off as the mistress, but you'll end up as the maid. |
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Be a daring deep sea diver. Be a polished polyglot, |
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But don't get married, girls, for marriage isn't hot. |
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Have you seen him in the morning with a face that looks like death, |
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With dandruff on his pillow and tobacco on his breath? |
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Still he needs some reassurance with his cup of tea in bed, |
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'Cos he's worried 'bout the mortgage and the bald patch on his head, |
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And he thinks that you're his mother, lays his head upon your breast, |
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So you try to boost his ego, iron his shirt, and warm his vest. |
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Then you get him off to work. The mighty hunter is restored, |
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And he leaves you there with nothing but the dreams you can't afford. |
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\endverse |
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\beginverse |
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So don't get married, girls. Men are all the same. |
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They'll just use you when they want you. You'd be better on the game. |
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Be a call girl, be a stripper, be a hostess, be a whore, |
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But don't get married, girls, for marriage is a bore. |
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When he comes home in the evening, he can hardly spare a look. |
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All he says is, "What's for dinner?" After all, you're just the cook. |
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Then he takes you to a party and he eyes you with a frown, |
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And you know you've got to look your best. You mustn't let him down. |
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And he'll fix you with that look, and there's that twinkle in his eye, |
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Like he's entered in a raffle and he's won you for a prize, |
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But when the party's over, you'll go slogging through the sludge |
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Half the time a decoration and the other half a drudge. |
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\endverse |
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\beginverse |
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So don't get married. It'll drive you round the bend. |
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It's a lane without a turning. It's the end without an end. |
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Take a lover every Friday, take up tennis, be a nurse, |
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But don't get married, girls, for marriage is a curse. |
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For you get him off to work. The mighty hunter is restored, |
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And he leaves you there with nothing but the dreams you can't afford. |
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\endverse |
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\endsong |
\endsong |
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