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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 fecked off altogether backspacing backspacing
backspacing to get the chords in near the right place.
If you liked it
! RATE IT ! flatwound
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 call girl Be stripper Be hostess Be 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 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 lookWhile '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
