Adam Sandler - Sweet Beatrice lyrics

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