Letras

For no fantastic physique do I wait
Such maiden prayers did I long ago quash
I seek no more than a minimum mate
Who sets me feeling all tosy and cosh
Which merely means to be cosy and warm
And not some feminine twattle and tosh
No other miracle must he perform
Than keeping all of me tosy and cosh
His eyes may cross and collide
My sole concern is the furnace inside
A stalwart, sinuous swashbuckler he
Or one more likely to buckle than swash
His bed more idle than bridal will be
If there's no climate that's tosy and cosh
'Tis sad but true that if only you slosh
Through fields of rubbish, you only find trash
What chance had I to be cosy and warm
With guys who only play tosy for cash?
Oh, I'm so tired
Written by: Alan Jay Lerner, Burton Lane
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