My dear Marquis
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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 scrutinise
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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 show polish to perfection
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Such graces are the traces of our old elite
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Such graces 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 friendly, ha ha ha
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Situation, ha ha ha haaaa aaaa aaa aaaa
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Ahhhh aaahhhhhh
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Marquis, oh, what a wag you are
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Profiles they say
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Give 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 side-face
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What evidence more can there be, ha ha ha ha ha
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I sing at soirees without fee, ha 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 are the traces of a pedigree
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Such graces 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 friendly, 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
|
|
What a friendly, ha ha ha
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Situation, ha ha ha haaaa aaaa aaa aaaaa
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Ahhhh aaahhhhhh ahhh aaahhh aahhh
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Ahhhhh aaaaahhhhhh aaaaahhhhhhh
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Ahhhhhaaaaahhhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh
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Ahhhhhaaaaahhhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh
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Ahhhhhaaaa
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ahhhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhhhhh
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aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
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-----------------
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The Laughing Song (Mein Herr Marquis)
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| Charlotte Church |
