If the band starts playing a waltz named after a state, I'm taking my girl outside for a walk until they're through.

I'm not seeking my fortune in the city. Or out west. Or across the sea. Or up north. I will not work in the mines or pick crops. I will lay around the shack til the mail train comes back and roll in my sweet baby's arms.

I will not court or marry anyone named Nellie or Maggie, their life expectancy's are too short. For that matter, any girl that Stephen Foster writes about is out, with the exception of Nelly Bly.

I will not come home drunk night after night, at least not so drunk that I can't tell the difference between a man's head and a cabbage.

I am not kissing the cold lips of a dead person. Nor am I going to request that anyone kiss mine.