all buttoned up
thompson, richard
but she won't give me a taste of it
that's what i call a waste of it
like she's living in a nunnery
i know she's only making fun of me
i might even manage a kiss of her
i call that so remiss of her
she hates the stuff i bring her
she wants diamonds on her finger
frothing at the mouth and barking
on all fours like rin tin tin
but i'll do the right thing
she changes with the weather
she keeps her knees together
drawing man into temptation
but she won't give me a taste of it
that's what i call a waste of it