|
Your figure like your friendship |
|
Gradually grows and grows |
|
The clothes that you thought that you'd shrunk |
|
Their size just froze |
|
When the body that you thought of as yours |
|
Just ups and goes |
|
I'll be happy with the weight |
|
Of the partner that I chose |
|
Your quick-step is slower |
|
But your spirit's still out on the floor |
|
And you can still hack it |
|
'Cause you know what your feet are free for |
|
And I'll love my dear |
|
'Til you can't tuck it in anymore, anymore |
|
Your second grey hair came a month |
|
After the first |
|
It didn't make you better |
|
But it didn't make you feel any worse |
|
Your third grey hair appeared |
|
With the fourth on your beard |
|
Your fifth, sixth, seventh sprouted out |
|
From your nose and your ears |
|
And I'll love you my partner |
|
'Til you can't hide the grey anymore |
|
Your distinguished good looks |
|
Am the ones young girls cannot ignore |
|
And I'll love you my partner |
|
'Til the grey hairs hairdressers floor, hairdressers floor |
|
Your eighth and your ninth and your tenth |
|
You just looked to the sky |
|
Like the charge of the Light Brigade |
|
Was passing you by |
|
Your quick-step is slower |
|
But your spirit's still out on the floor |
|
When it comes to raw beauty |
|
You've a whole whorehouse waiting in store |
|
Your corset has grown |
|
Bid you're still always first to the drawer |
|
And I'll love you my partner (And I'll love you my partner) |
|
'Til the grey hairs the hairdresser's floor |
|
Hairdresser's floor, hairdresser's floor |
