My dear Marquis, why must you be So loathe to use your eyes? When you stop and stare Take a lot more care And closely scrusitnise My fingers, my ankles, my feet Ha ha ha ha ha How shapely and trim and petite Ha ha ha ha ha Both accent and inflection Show polish to perfection Such graces Are the traces of our old elite Such graces Are the traces of our old elite I marvel how a man like you Could fail to see my blood runs blue! What a funny, ha ha ha Situation, ha ha ha What a startling, ha ha ha Revelation, ha ha ha ha ha What a funny, ha ha ha Situation, ha ha ha ha! Marquis oh what a wag you are! Profiles they say Gives the game away When formed with cla**ic grace If the head on view Isn't much to you Then look at me sideface! What evidence more can there be, ha ha ha ha ha! I sing at soiress without fee, ha ha ha ha ha! Bestowing my attention With lofty condescension Such graces Are the traces of a pedigree Such graces Are the traces of a pedigree All's one to you though I'm afraid Because you love a parlour maid! What a funny, ha ha ha Situation, ha ha ha What a startling, ha ha ha Revelation, ha ha ha ha ha What a funny, ha ha ha Situation, ha ha ha {Charlotte vocalizing}