It was upon the list field, lads,
Where I first met my wife;
She smote me down and killed me dead,
Then kissed me back to life.
My lady likes her silver rings,
And gold she thinks is grand,
But what she loves above all things
Is iron in her hand.
Our wedding day was at the war,
Our vows upon the field.
The best man had an eight foot spear,
The priest a sword and shield.
My lady likes, &c.
She sets her rivets with her thumbs,
She gave up pain for Lent;
The only time she cries is when
Her armor gets a dent.
My lady likes, &c.
She spends an hour on her face
So it won’t show its age.
It takes some rouge and elbow grease
To shine that 14 gauge.
My lady likes, &c.
To court my love I gave her flowers,
A ring when we were wed,
But mine won’t be the hand to put
The crown upon her head.
My lady likes, &c.
Enjoy the lass who’ll raise a glass,
And sing and sew and dance.
Though I like skirts, I’ll always flirt
With girls in metal pants!
My lady likes, &c.