The Prince:
A bride-finding ball, a bride-finding ball
Where every maiden's bound to laugh
At me, the royal fatted calf
A bride-finding ball, a bride-finding ball
Though I'm the one who does the choosing
I'm the one who does the losing
It's nauseating, nauseating
Can't you just imagine it?
Hope springs in all
Short, fat, or tall
As they primp and preen and pray
That this will be their lucky day
There is no affair
Of which I'm aware
More galling to bear than a bride-finding ball
The Prince's cousin:
A bride-finding ball, a bride-finding ball
Where luscious lovelies from each land
Will vie to win the royal hand
A bride-finding ball, a bride-finding ball
With frills on dresses, party dresses
Every maiden effervescent
Giving her best, giving her all
Dancing, glancing, laughing, teasing
Whirling, swirling, touching, squeezing
There's no affair
To ever compare
Or thrill or enthrall like a bride-finding ball