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British Musical Theatre   A Runaway Girl

No. 6 - Song - Guy and Chorus of Girls

MIDI File

Guy: There are girls of ev'ry station
With a liking for flirtation,
In whose company a pleasant hour I've sped;
From their charms I'm not distracting,
Though I may appear exacting,
But I've never found one yet I'd care to wed.
Take the type that's sprung up lately —
Rather masculine and stately,
With a well developed chin and close cropp'd hair;
In a costume bifurcated
Which her tailor imitated
From the model which her brother used to wear.
Well, she rises with the lark
And she scorches in the Park,
She's a lady there's a lot of wear and tear about —
But her boot's a number nine
For her foot's as big as mine,
So I don't think that's the sort of girl I care about.
Girls: Well, she rises with the lark
And she scorches in the Park,
She's a lady there's a lot of wear and tear about —
But her boot's a number nine
For her foot's as big as mine,
So I don't think that's the sort of girl I care about.
   
Guy: There's a wealth of adoration
in your youthful admiration
For the deity who dances at the Hall,
While you cultivate devotion
To the poetry of motion,
And you spend a little fortune in the stalls.
For there's something in her dancing
So unique and so entrancing
That you worship ev'ry evening at her shrine;
And in ecstasy you mutter
That the fascinating flutter
Of her petticoats is perfectly divine.
She can charm you with a glance,
She can sup and she can dance,
She's a lady there's a lot of golden hair about —
She's admirers by the score,
Knows that two and two make four,
But I don't think she's the sort of girl I care about.
Girls: She can charm you with a glance,
She can sup and she can dance,
She's a lady there's a lot of golden hair about —
She's admirers by the score,
Knows that two and two make four,
But I don't think she's the sort of girl I care about.
   
Guy: There's a lib'ral education
In the modern affectation
Of the maiden who's a little past her prime,
And who knows her charms are failing
In the effort unavailing
To secure a wealthy husband while there's time.
For there's something quite pathetic
In the waste of good cosmetic,
Though her patronage, of course, is good for trade;
For her fav'rite preparation,
Pack'd secure from observation,
Costs her twenty francs a bottle, postage paid.
She's as girlish as can be,
And she says she's twenty-three
Though her age is really thirty-five or thereabout —
She prefers a shaded light
And her hair takes off at night,
So I don't think that's the sort of girl I care about.
Girls: She's as girlish as can be,
And she says she's twenty-three
Though her age is really thirty-five or thereabout —
She prefers a shaded light
And her hair takes off at night,
So I don't think that's the sort of girl I care about.

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