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Don't Get Married Girls

    (Leon Rosselson)

    Don't get married, girls - 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, girls, for marriage isn't fun

    It's fine when you're romancing and he plays the lover's 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
    And he'll soon begin to wonder what he ever saw in you
    Still he takes without complaining all the dishes you provide
    But you see he has 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 or a polished polyglot
    But don't get married, girls, for marriage is a plot

    Have you seen him in the morning with a face that looks like death
    He's got dandruff on his pillow and tobacco on his breath
    And he wants some reassurance with his cup of tea in bed
    For he's got worries with 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, men are all the same
    They just use you when they need you, you'll do better on the game
    Be a call girl, be a stripper, be a hostess, be a whore
    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 he eyes you with a frown
    And you know you've got to look your best, you mustn't let him down
    Then he'll clutch you with that 'Look-what-I've-got' twinkle in his eyes
    Like he's entered for a raffle and he's won you for the prize
    But when the party's over you'll be slogging through the sludge
    Half the time a decoration and the other half a drudge

    So don't get married, it'll drive you round the bend
    It's the lane without a turning, it's the end without an end
    Change your 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

Susannes Folksong-Notizen

  • [1984:] The women's songs have also the merit of emphasis on personal, intimate matters - love, marriage, child-raising - as well as on wider issues, and even the most militant, at least in 'My Song Is My Own', are not crude, anti-men rubbish. Dick Gaughan, who declares "I'm a hundred per cent in support - you've had a dreadful deal by society", takes exception to the words in [this song]. He feels this is an example of female sexism. What Dick misses here is the humour of the song, albeit slightly on the black side, and the fact that it is protesting against the institution of marriage as it was, and still is in large measure. (Munro, Revival 242f)

Quelle: England

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