I used to dream that I would discover The perfect lover someday. I knew I'd recognize him if ever He came 'round my way. I always used to fancy then He'd be one of the God-like kind of men With a giant brain and a noble head Like the heroes bold In the books I've read. But along came Bill Who's not the type at all, You'd meet him on the street And never notice him. His form and face, His manly grace Are not the kind that you Would find in a statue, And I can't explain, It's surely not his brain That makes me thrill - I love him because he's wonderful, Because he's just my Bill. He can't play golf or tennis or polo, Or sing a solo, or row. He isn't half as handsome As dozens of men that I know. He isn't tall or straight or slim And he dresses far worse than Ted or Jim. And I can't explain why he should be Just the one, one man in the world for me. He's just my Bill an ordinary boy, He hasn't got a thing that I can brag about. And yet to be Upon his knee So comfy and roomy Seems natural to me. Oh, I can't explain, It's surely not his brain That makes me thrill - I love him because he's - I don't know... Because he's just my Bill.