My dear Marquis, why must you be,
So loathe to use your eyes?
When you stop and stare 
Take a lot more care
And closely scrusitnise
My fingers, my ankles, my feet.
Ha ha ha ha ha
How shapely and trim and petite.
Ha ha ha ha ha
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 runs blue!
What a funny, ha ha ha
Situation, ha ha ha
What a startling, ha ha ha
revelation, ha ha ha ha ha
What a funny, ha ha ha
Situation, ha ha ha ha!
Marquis oh what a wag you are!
Profiles they say
Gives the game away.
When formed with classic grace
If the head on view,
Isn't much to you,
Then look at me sideface!
What evidence more can there be, ha ha ha ha ha!
I sing at soiress without fee, ha ha ha ha ha!
Bestowing my attention
With lofty condescension.
Such graces
Are the traces of a pedigree.
Such graces
Are the traces of a pedigree.
All's one to you though I'm afraid
Because you love a parlour maid!
What a funny, ha ha ha
Situation, ha ha ha
What a startling, ha ha ha
Revelation, ha ha ha ha ha
What a funny, ha ha ha
Situation, ha ha ha 
{Charlotte vocalizing}