Lyrics

We'll have a blue room a new room for two room where everyday's a holiday because you're married to me. Not like a ball room, a small room, a hall room where you can smoke your pipe away with my wee head upon your knee. We will thrive on, keep alive on, nothin' but kisses. We're mister and mrs on litle blue chairs. I'll wear my trouseau, and Robinson Curusoe is not so far from worldly cares as our blur room way away upstairs.