DON'T GET MARRIED, GIRLS by Leon Rosselson

Don't get married girls you'll sign away your life
You may start off as a woman but you'll end up as the wife
You could be a vestal virgin take the veil or be a nun
But don't get married girls for marriage isn't fun
Oh it's great when you're romancing and he plays the lovers part
You're the flowers in his garden you're the flame that warms his heart
And his love will last forever and he'll promise you the moon
But just wait until you're married and he'll sing a different tune
You're his tapioca pudding, You're the dumplings in his stew
But he'll soon begin to wonder what he ever saw in you
Still he takes without complaining all the dishes you provide
But you know he likes to have a little jam tart on the side

So don't get married girls it's very badly paid
You may start off as the mistress but you'll end up as the maid
Be a daring deep sea diver be a polished polyglot
But don't get married girls for marriage isn't hot
Have you seen him in the morning with a face that looks like death
With dandruff on his pillow and tobacco on his breath
Still he needs some reassurance with his cup of tea in bed
'Cos he's worried 'bout the mortgage and the bald patch on his head
And he thinks that you're his mother lays his head upon your breast
So you try to boost his ego iron his shirt and warm his vest
Then you get him off to work the mighty hunter is restored
And he leaves you there with nothing but the dreams you can't afford

So don't get married girls men are all the same
They'll just use you when they want you you'd be better on the game
Be a call girl, be a stripper, be a hostess, be a whore
But don't get married girls for marriage is a bore
When he comes home in the evening he can hardly spare a look
All he says is what's for dinner after all you're just the cook
Then he takes you to a party and he eyes you with a frown
And you know you've got to look your best you mustn't let him down
And he'll fix you with that look and there's that twinkle in his eye
Like he's entered in a raffle and he's won you for a prize
But when the party's over you'll go slogging through the sludge
Half the time a decoration and the other half a drudge

So don't get married it'll drive you round the bend
It's a lane without a turning it's the end without an end
Take a lover every Friday, Take up tennis, be a nurse
But don't get married girls for marriage is a curse

For you get him off to work the mighty hunter is restored
And he leaves you there with nothing but the dreams you can't afford.