| My sugar is so refined
|
| He’s one o' them high-class kind
|
| He doesn’t wear a hat, he wears a chapeau
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| He goes to see a cinema, but never a show
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| My sugar is so refined
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| He’s got a real high-class mind
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| He never buys a dress, it’s always a frock
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| He always winds his timepiece up, but never his clock
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| He says «tomahto» instead of «tomayto»
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| He says «potahto» instead of «potayto»
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| Well, you should see how he holds a cup of tea
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| Just two fingers while he sticks out three
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| My sugar is so refined
|
| He’s one o' them high-class kind
|
| He never shares a kiss, he lets our lips unite
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| But, oh, it feels like kissin' and each kiss is dynamite
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| I wonder what he thinks of each time I hold him tight
|
| Oh, he’s so refined
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| He says «banahna» instead of «banana»
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| He says «piano» instead of «pianna»
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| And you should see how he sits on his settee
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| With cake and coffee balanced on one knee
|
| My sugar is so refined
|
| He’s one o' them high-class kind
|
| He never shares a kiss, he lets our lips unite
|
| But, oh, it feels like kissin' and each kiss is dynamite
|
| I wonder what he thinks of each time I hold him tight
|
| Oh, he’s so refined
|
| Oh, he’s so refined
|
| My sugar is so refined |