He: Babe, we are well met as in a spell met, I lift my helmet
Sandy, you’re just dandy for just this here lad
You’re such a fistfull, my eyes are mistful
Are you too wistful to care to say you care to say
“Come near, lad.”

You are so graceful, have you wings?
You have a face full of nice things
You have no speaking voice, dear with ev’ry word it sings

Refrain:
Thou swell! Thou witty! Thou sweet! Thou grand!
Wouldst kiss me pretty? Wouldst hold my hand?
Both thine eyes are cute too; what they do to me
Hear me holler I choose a Sweet lollapaloosa in thee
I’d feel so rich in a hut for two
Two rooms and kitchen I’m sure would do
Give me just a plot of not a lot of land
And Thou swell! Thou Witty! Thou Grand!

She:
Thy words are queer, Sir, unto mine ear, Sir
Yet thou’rt a dear, Sir, to me
Thou could’st woo me now could’st though try, Sir
I’d murmur “Swell”, too and like it well too
More thou wilt tell to Sandy, thou art dandy
Now art though my knight
Thine arms are martial; thou hast grace
My cheek is partial to thy face
And if they lips grow weary, mine are resting place