Another Irish tune from back in the day, this song goes
down well at wedding and engagement parties, aaahh wedded bliss,
and The Dubliners givin away all our secrets.
I really have to find another font to use,
cause I m ed off altogether backspacing, backspacing,
backspacing to get the chords in near the right place.
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DON T GET MARRIED
Don t get married girl, 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 and be a nun
But don t get married girl, For marraige isn t fun
Oh it s fine when you re romancing, And he plays the lovers part
You re the roses 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 wedded, Then 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
Sure he takes without complaining, All the dishes you provide
For you see he s got to have, His bit of 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 is a plot
Aarh you seen him in the morning, With a face that looks like death
With dandruff on his pillow, And tobacco on his breath
And he needs some reassurance, With his cup of tea in bed
For he s worried by the mortgage, And the bald patch on his head
And he s sure 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, Cause men are all the same
They ll just use you, When they want you, You d do better on the game
Be a call girl, Be a stripper, Be a hostess, Be a
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
But when he takes you to a party, Where he eye s you with a frown
For you know you ve got to look your best, You mustn t let him down
And he ll clutch you with that look,While ere s that twinkle in his eyes
Like he s entered for a raffle, And he s won you for the prize
Ahh but when the partys over, You ll be slogging through the sludge
Half the time a decoration, 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
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