Mad About the Boy

歌詞

SOCIETY WOMAN: I met him at a party Just a couple of years ago He was rather over-hearty and ridiculous But as I'd seen him on the screen he cast a certain spell I basked in his attraction For a couple of hours or so His manners were a fraction too meticulous If he was real or not I couldn't tell But like a silly fool I fell Mad about the boy I know it's stupid to be mad about the boy I'm so ashamed of it But must admit The sleepless nights I've had About the boy On the silver screen He melts my foolish heart in every single scene Although I'm quite aware That here and there Are traces of the cad About the boy Lord knows I'm not a fool-girl I really shouldn't care Lord knows I'm not a school-girl In the flurry of her first affair Will it ever cloy This odd diversity of misery and joy I'm feeling quite insane and young again And all because I'm mad about the boy. SCHOOL GIRL: Home work, home work, Every night there's homework While Elsie practices the gas goes pop, I wish, I wish she'd stop, Oh dear, oh dear, Here it's always, 'No dear, You can't go out again, you must stay home You'd waste your money on that common Picturedrome, Don't shirk—stay here and do your work.' Yearning, yearning, How my heart is burning. I'll see him Saturday in Strong Man's Pain And then on Monday and on Friday week again. To me, he is the sole man Who can kiss as well as Coleman, I could faint whenever there's a close-up of his lips, Though John Barrymore is larger When my hero's on his charger Even Douglass Fairbanks Junior hasn't smaller hips. If only he could know That I adore him so. Mad about the boy It's simply scrumptous to be mad about the boy, I know that quite sincerely Houseman really Wrote The Shropshire Lad about the boy. In my English prose I've done a tracing of his forehead and his nose And there is, honour bright, A certain slight Effect of Galahad about the boy. I've talked to Rosie Hooper, She feels the same as me, She says that Gary Cooper Doesn't thrill her to the same degree. In Can Love Destroy? He meets with Garbo in a suit of corduroy, He gives a little frown And knocks her down. Oh dear, of dear, I'm mad about the boy. COCKNEY: Every Wednesday afternoon I get a little time off from three to eleven, Then I go to the picture house and taste a little of my particular heaven. He appears In a little while, Through a mist of tears I can see him smiling Above me. Every picture I see him in, Every lovers' caress, Makes my wonderful dreams begin, Makes me long to confess That if he ever looked at me, And thought perhaps I was worth the trouble to Love me, I'd give in and I wouldn't care, However far from the path of virtue he'd Shove me! Just supposing our love was brief, If he treated me rough, I'd be happy beyond belief, Once would be enough. Mad about the boy I know I'm potty but I'm mad about the boy! He sets me 'eart on fire With love's desire, In fact I've got it bad about the boy! When I do the rooms, I see his face in all the brushes and the brooms! Last week I strained me back And got the sack, And had a row with dad about the boy. I'm finished with Navarro, (He thrills me to the marrow) I'm tired of Richard Dix, (I sit through all his tricks!) I'm pierced by Cupid's arrow Every Wed-nes-day, from four to six! 'Ow I should enjoy To let 'im treat me like a plaything or a toy, I'd give my all to 'im And crawl to 'im, So 'elp me God, I'm mad about the boy. TART: It seems a little silly For a girl my age and weight To walk down Piccadilly In a haze of love. It ought to take a good deal more to get a bad girl down. I should have been exempt, for My particular kind of fate Has taught me such contempt for Every phase of love, And now I've been and spent my last half-crown To weep about a painted clown. Mad about the boy, It's pretty funny but I'm mad about the boy, He has a gay appeal That makes me feel There may be something sad about the boy. Walking down the street, His eyes look out at me from people that I meet, I can't believe it's true But when I'm blue In some strange way I'm glad about the boy, I'm hardly sentimental Love isn't so sublime I have to pay my rental And I can't afford to waste much time, If I could employ A little magic that would finally destroy This dream that pains me And enchains me, But I can't because I'm mad about the boy.