Mustache

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

said your daddy owned 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 mustache?

you know you could’ve been a member

of a very exclusive club

you could’ve been a contender

I would’ve 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 mustache?

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!

but when the fever finally broke

it all seemed like a terrible joke

why’d you have to grow that mustache?