Hangin' with my sweet amour

She came out with a lion's roar

Yellin' "I'm goin' to the corner store,"

Be back at quarter to four

"Don't slam you pinkies in the drawer"

She can be like a maiden from the days of yore

Hangin' out at Studio 54

Break-dancin' on the slick, brick disco floor

With Lionel Richie

Who, by the way, was a Commodore

One time she gave mouth-to-mouth to a snaggle-tooth boar

Who couldn't breathe right since the Vietnam War

Then she played Chinese Checkers with Skeletor

And went camping with Eva Gabor

She's my sweet Beatrice

She's my sweet Beatrice

She's my sweet Beatrice

And, she's coming home

I got a picture of her down by the seashore

Wearing a bikini made of purple velour

Her hair's up like Conway Twitty's pompadour

With the smile of Guy LeFleur

She got the ups and the downs like an elevator

But deep inside she's a marshmallow s'more

Can bake a cake as big as Jupitor

Either/or, neither/nor

She'll share it with your Labrador

She can run faster than a blazing meteor

Loves Winnie the Pooh and his friend Eeyore

Can make a pipe out of an apple core

That's a trick she learned from Roberto Parrish

Down in Ecuador

You know why?

She's my sweet Beatrice

She's my sweet Beatrice

She's my sweet Beatrice

And she's coming home

Well, for sure, she opened the door

Whipped out a three-foot fishing lure

Sexually, that made me feel insecure

Like the time I was a roadie

On Elton John's tour

She said "Let's go catch some Piscatore!"

I said "Beatrice, you don't eat fish no more"

She said "By G-d, you're right!"

So we took ourselves a snore

And when we woke up 10 hours later

We made "Love Du Jour"

She's my sweet Beatrice

She's my sweet Beatrice

She's my sweet Beatrice

And she came home

She likes to clean out the attic every now and then

She's gonna knit me a brand new golfing bag

We gonna watch ourselves a John Wayne movie

Then we gonna free all the doggies at the kennel

She gonna try on my third grade mittens

She'll keep 'em on even though they're way to small

Well, she ain't never gonna hurt me

She ain't never gonna let me down

She ain't never gonna tell nobody

I'm afraid of birds and spiders

Well,

Bea-Bea-Bea-Beatrice

Bea-Bea-Bea-Beatrice

Bea-Bea-Bea-Beatrice

Bea-Bea-Bea-Beatrice

Bea-Bea-Bea-Beatrice

Bea-Bea-Bea-Beatrice

And she loves Pat Summerall