From Kensington to Regent's Park
She captures every mind and heart
When she walks in, I fight the urge to leave
At parties and in banquet halls
I stand alone against the wall
And try my very best to look at ease
She gets compliments and praise that really should be mine
And all because I'm seventeen and she is thirty-five
My rival, my rival, my rival
My rival, my rival, my rival
Loves you
The young men come, the young men go
Pulled down by the undertow
She tells them sordid jokes that make me blush
Her repertoire of dirty songs
Her dresses she wears short, not long
With necklines that I really would adjust
She introduces me to men who long have passed their prime
And sixty takes to seventeen like nineteen to thirty-five
My rival, my rival, my rival
My rival, my rival, my rival
Loves you
It's after twelve, so I must go
My curfew was an hour ago
And no one here will notice I have gone
It hurts my feet, it hurts my pride
To always have to step aside
And she will stay and dance until the dawn
But there's a single ray of hope sneaking through the blinds
'Cause she'll be almost sixty by the time I'm thiry-five
My rival, my rival, my rival
My rival, my rival, my rival
Loves you