I know Seymour's the greatest

But I'm dating a semi-sadist.

So I've got a black eye

And my arm's in a cast.



Still, that Seymour's a cutie.

Well, if not, he's got inner beauty.

And I dream of a place 

Where we could be together at last-



A matchbox of our own

A fence of real chain link

A grill out on the patio

Disposal in the sink

A washer and a dryer and

an ironing machine

In a tract house that we share

Somewhere that's green



He rakes and trims the grass

He loves to mow and weed

I cook like Betty Crocker 

And I look like Donna Reed

There's plastic on the furniture 

To keep it neat and clean

In the Pine-Sol scented air,

Somewhere that's green



Between our frozen dinner 

And our bed-time: nine-fifteen

We snuggle watching Lucy 

On our big, enormous

Twelve-inch screen



I'm his December Bride

He's father, he knows best

The kids watch Howdy Doody 

As the sun sets in the west

A picture out of Better Homes

and Gardens Magazine

Far from Skid Row

I dream we'll go

somewhere that's... green