Well, if not, he's got inner beauty And I dream of a place Where we could be together at last A matchbox of our own A fence of real chain link A grill out on the patio Disposal in the sink A washer and a dryer and an ironing machine In a tract house that we share Somewhere that's green He rakes and trims the grass He loves to mow and weed I cook like Betty Crocker And I look like Donna Reed There's plastic on the furniture To keep it neat and clean In the Pine-Sol scented air Somewhere that's green Between our frozen dinner And our bedtime, nine-fifteen We snuggle watchin' Lucy On our big, enormous twelve-inch screen I'm his December Bride He's Father, he Knows Best Our kids watch Howdy Doody As the sun sets in the west A picture out of Better Homes and Gardens magazine Far from Skid Row I dream we'll go Somewhere that's green