THE THREE AGES OF WOMAN
(A woman's Opinion Of Man)
 
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What is a woman's opinion of man
When she's first seventeen and a flapper?
She wears baby hats and her hair is in plaits
Still, she's got big ideas in her napper
Oh, man is a hero, she's certain of that
For his trousers are creased and he wears a tall hat
And he's hanging around in exchange for a smile
To rule her in diamonds and spend all his pile
On her? What rot. A fellow wants more than a smile, eh what?

Chorus: Green, so green, is the maiden of seventeen
She longs for the life of an amorous wife
And of probable squabbles she won't think
For the man is the King of her Palace of Dreams
Who feeds her on cuddles and chocolate creams
Fancy! chocolate creams in a palace of dreams
I don't think.


What is a woman's opinion of man
When she's twenty-five, now a young lady?
She's one of the lads of the village, her fads
Are advanced and a little bit shady
She understands man, or she thinks so at least
She's read the six novels, and calls him a beast
She vows she won't marry, but when she is tough
Oh, she's fearfully certain she won't get enough
Dear, dear, hum, hum, don't fret
If a fellow says 'Wilt? will she wilt? You bet

Chorus: Alice, alive, is the maiden of twenty-five
She's blushing with pride on the morn she's a bride
She's so very elated and glad some
But the man is a creature she looks on with awe
She really can't tell what he's wedding her for
But her ma says, 'The dunce. I could tell her at once
I've had some.'


What is a woman's opinion of man
When her age is a matter of guessing?
She powders and dyes and makes up her face
Oh, and she has to be careful when dressing
She understands man for she's sampled a score
She calls him a pitiless bald-headed bore
Conceited and vain when a woman is near
A rotter with only one single idea
Just one, not two! and the woman who knows him can take her cue.

Chorus: Great, oh, she's great, is the woman of umpty-eight
She knows what is what for she's been through a lot
She's gone far and might have gone farther
Ah, a lot she has endured from the thing they call man
Still, if to live life o'er again she began
Would she live it again, would she play the same game? Rather!
 
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Written and composed by Orlando Powell & George Arthurs
Performed by Marie Lloyd (1870-1922)
 
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