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Babe, we are well met,
As in a spell met,
I lift my helmet,
Sandy; You're just dandy.
For just this here lad.
You're such a fistfull.
My eyes are mistful,
Are you too wistful to care,
Do say you care to say;
"Come near lad."
You are so graceful,
have you wings?
You have a face full of nice things;
You have no speaking voice, dear,
With ev'ry word it sings.
She:
Thy words are queer, Sir,
Unto mine ear, Sir,
Yet thou'rt a dear, Sir, to me;
Thou could'st woo me;
Now could'st though try, knight.
I'd murmur "Swell", too,
And like it well too;
More thou wilt tell to Sandy.
Thou art dandy;
Now art though my knight.
Thine arms are martial;
Thou hast grace;
My cheek is partial to they face;
And if they lips grow weary,
Mine are resting place.
Refrain:
Thou swell! Thou witty!
Thou sweet! Thou grand!
Wouldst kiss me pretty?
Wouldst hold my hand?
Both thine eyes are cute too;
What they do to me.
Hear me holler I choose a Sweet lollapaloosa in thee.
I'd feel so rich in a hut for two;
Two rooms and a kitchen I'm sure would do;
Give me just a plot of,
Not a lot of land,
And Thou swell! Thou Witty! Thou Grand!
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