[Verse]
Come, sit thee near
Place thyself upon my knee
Make an end of thy fear
For i love but thee in camelot
Oh, no not here
Where observed by all we'll be
Should thy father appear
He would surely scold and damn a lot
Care not a jot
Harken to my plot:
Soon we'll retreat to a sweet spot!
Oh, for a year
On a desert island with thee
Out in the sheer middle of the sea
We'll sing tra-la
Wouldn't we be happy and gay
With thy mama many miles away?
In the morning air
Murmur a blessing;
First we'll eat
Then we will dress
If it's fair
We'll be caressing
If it rains
We'll caress!
Who knows next year
What the population will be
Out in the middle of the sea?
Patter
I'll pack each little thing for thee
What ten books shall i bring for thee?
We'll need some books to read
Thou needst not bring ten books along
If thou wilt bring thy looks along
'twill be enough for me
If the heat begins to swelter
We won't have to fear the sun
We will lie beneath a shelter
Only big enough for one
Let the prudish people quarrel
We'll forget them for the nonce
If they think our love immoral
"Honi soit qui mal y pense."
I'll dress the way that adam did
And i the way his madam did
I'll see enough of thee!