the laughing song
charlotte church
so loathe to use your eyes
how shapely and trim and petite
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 was blue
ha ha ha haaaa aaaa aaa aaaa
when formed with classic grace
then look at me side-face
what evidence more can there be
i sing at soirees without fee
such graces are the traces of a pedigree
such graces are the traces of a pedigree
because you love a parlour maid
ha ha ha haaaa aaaa aaa aaaaa
ahhhh aaahhhhhh ahhh aaahhh aahhh
ahhhhh aaaaahhhhhh aaaaahhhhhhh
ahhhhhaaaaahhhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh
ahhhhhaaaaahhhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh
aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh