MOUSTACHE

I remember it like last night the night that I met you you were puttin on a necktie you had a stick-and-poke tattoo I said my, my! good god! what’ve I got to do to get to know ya babe? you were handsomer than John Wayne with your size eleven shoes you knew how to fly an airplane and you were drinking fancy booze but when the fever finally broke it all seemed like a terrible joke why’d you have to grow that moustache? you know you coulda been a member of a very exclusive club you coulda been a contender I woulda given you all my love but when the fever finally broke it all seemed like a terrible joke why’d you have to grow that moustache? every time I look at you I feel the same why don’t you cut it out? every time you talk I think it’s such a shame you had such a pretty mouth! and when the fever finally broke it all seemed like a terrible joke why’d you have to grow that moustache?