Charlotte Church The Laughing Song (Mein Herr Marquis)
My dear Marquis, why must you be,
So loathe to use your eyes?
When you stop and stare
Take a lot more care
And closely scrutinise.
My fingers, my ankles, my feet.
Ha ha ha ha ha
How shapely and trim and petite.
Ha ha ha ha ha
Both accent and inflection,
Show polish to perfection.
Such graces,
Are the traces of our old elite.
Such graces,
Are the traces of our old elite.
I marvel how a man like you,
Could fail to see my blood runs blue.
What a funny, ha ha ha
Situation, ha ha ha
What a startling, ha ha ha
revelation, ha ha ha ha ha
What a funny, ha ha ha
Situation, ha ha ha haaaa aaaa aaa aaaa
Ahhhh aaahhhhhh
Marquis oh what a wag you are.
Profiles they say,
Give the game away.
when formed with classic grace.
If the head on view,
Isn't much to you,
Then look at me side face.
What evidence more can there be? ha ha ha ha ha
I sing at soirees without fee.
Bestowing my attention
With lofty condescension.
Such graces,
Are the traces of a pedigree.
Such graces,
Are the traces of a pedigree.
Alls one to you though I'm afraid
Because you love a parlourmaid.
What a funny, ha ha ha
Situation, ha ha ha
What a startling, ha ha ha
Revelation, ha ha ha ha ha
What a funny, ha ha ha
Situation, ha ha ha haaaa aaaa aaa aaaaa
Ahhhh aaahhhhhh ahhh aaahhh aahhh
Ahhhhh aaaaahhhhhh aaaaahhhhhhh
Ahhhhhaaaaahhhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh
Ahhhhhaaaaahhhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh
Ahhhhhaaaa
ahhhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhhhhh
aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh