I shall marry the miller′s son,
Pin my hat on a nice piece of property.
Friday nights, for a bit of fun,
It′s a wink and a wiggle and a giggle in the grass
And I'll trip the light fandango,
A pinch and a diddle in the middle of what passes by.
From the pinch and the punch
To the paunch and the pouch
To the ten thousandth lunch
And the belch and the grouch
There are mouths to be kissed
And a girl ought to celebrate what passes by.
Or I shall marry the businessman,
Five fat babies and lots of security.
Friday nights, if we think we can,
It's a push and a fumble and a tumble in the sheets
And I′ll foot the highland fancy,
A dip in the butter and a flutter with what meets my eye.
From the push and the whoop
To the squint and the stoop
It′s not much of a stretch
To the cribs and the croup
And the bosoms that droop
There are mouths to be kissed
And a girl has to celebrate what passes by.
Or I shall marry the Prince of Wales,
Pearls and servants and dressing for festivals.
Friday nights, with him all in tails,
It's a rip in the bustle and a rustle in the hay
And I′ll pitch the quick fantastic,
With flings of confetti and my petticoats away up high.
From the fling that's for fun
To the thigh pressing un-
Till you're stuck with just one
There are mouths to be kissed
There′s a lot I'll have missed
But I'll not have been dead
And a person should celebrate everything