Good heavens, child, don't dawdle
We can′t keep Derek waiting
I haven't packed or washed my hair
She soon will be arriving
Is that respect you're showing
You make me kiss her hand again
I swear I′m gonna be sick
One day Prince Derek will be her intended
She tries to talk me into playing dress-up
She′s always flirting with the castle guards
I think you really sorta like her, ′fess up
I'd like her better if she′d lose at cards
For as long as I remember
We′ve been told we′d someday wed
Every June until September
All their pushing and annoying hints
I've got bruises with their fingerprints
I can do much better I am sure