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Every inch a lady, they'd say
Starched dress impeccable,
Children dolled up immaculate,
Perfection inevitable.
(Her heart scents of Tigress Perfume.)
Atomizers grace dressers, lace doilies,
Bread odoring fresh from the oven,
Fresh flowers all of the tables,
By each and all neighbors, she's loven.
(Her heart scents of Tigress Perfume.)
When husband snores quiet in the night
On fresh sheets all others are sleeping,
She frees her soul to take flight
Into the secrets she's keeping.
(And her heart scents of Tigress Perfume.)
Her dress becomes bangles and beads
As she swerves her belly to Sultans,
Waltzing with emeralds and diamonds in Versailles
Even swinging with Gable the Charleston.
(While her heart scents of Tigress Perfume.)
She skips the streets of Singapore,
Calcutta, Cairo and Cancoon,
Dances in Spain Flamenco with a handsome toreador,
Jigs in Dublin and spends her dubloons.
Her heart's made of Tigress Perfume.
In the morning she wakes bright and early,
A smile on her face, coffee brewing,
Just waiting for her starched day to be over
When she lets her soul out to play again.
Her heart bathed in Tigress Perfume.
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