Foolishness On a Sunday Morning
Foolishness On a Sunday Morning
Now that guy's too old
To go without a shirt;
His hair is white,
His belly like dirt.
But there's something in
The twinkle of his eye,
That turns my head,
Even though I'm shy.
I think he's not too old for me;
I'll smile at him,
And then we'll see.
If he smiles back, I think
I'll buy him a shirt,
But probably not pink.
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