|
Another bride, another groom
|
The countryside is all in bloom;
|
The flow'rs 'n trees is,
|
The birds and bees is
|
Making whoopie.
|
|
The choir sings, "Here comes the bride"
|
Another victim is at her side
|
He's lost his reason
|
'Cause it's the season
|
For making whoopee.
|
|
Down through the countless ages,
|
You'll find it ev'rywhere:
|
Somebody makes good wages,
|
Somebody wants her share.
|
|
It's so he'll fall for
|
Making whoopee.
|
|
Another year, or maybe less
|
What's this I hear? Or can't you guess?
|
She feels neglected,
|
And he's suspected
|
Of making whoopee.
|
|
She sits alone 'most ev'ry night
|
He doesn't come home, or even write
|
He says he's busy
|
But she says, "Is he
|
Making whoopee?"
|
|
He doesn't make much money
|
Five thousand dollars per;
|
Some judge who thinks he's funny
|
Says, "You pay six to her."
|
|
He says, "Now judge, suppose I fail?"
|
The judge says, "Bud, right into jail.
|
You'd better keep her
|
You'll find it cheaper
|
Than making whoopee."
|
|
Additional verses:
|
|
Another bride
|
Another groom
|
Another sunny
|
Honeymoon;
|
Another season,
|
Another reason
|
For makin' whoopee.
|
|
A quiet service,
|
A lot of rice,
|
The groom is nervous
|
He answers twice.
|
It's really killing
|
THat he's so willing
|
To make whoopee.
|
|
Picture a little lovenest
|
Down where the roses cling
|
Picture that same sweet lovenest
|
Think what a year can bring.
|
|
He's washing dishes
|
And baby clothes
|
He's so ambitious
|
He even sews;
|
But don't forget, boys
|
That's what you get, boys
|
For makin' whoopee.
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Making whoopee
|
| Dinah Washington |
