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Lyrics
Lucille, the French female ideal,
How about a rendez-vous, I wanna get to know you for real.
Your eyes, blue as cloudless skies,
They've got a star on them, make me wanna move my thighs.
Your lips have other girls' eclipsed.
Soft and sensuous, they put a fire between my hips.
Your breasts...baby, they're the best.
Nature was kind to you; they should always be caressed.
Your nethers can endure all weathers.
They drive all men insane, put us at the ends of our tethers.
Callipygian queen, though we ain't sharin' the same dream,
I'd like to get with you, and pleasure you so that you scream.
Lucille, O how you make me feel!
It's such a shame you're dressed; O how your clothes have you concealed.
French temptress, on you I always obsess,
Parce que toi, Aphrodite, tu as le corps d'une deesse.
Sweet li'l mango, in Paris let's do the tango:
You can be my Maria, and I will be your Marlon Brando.
My entrancer, you move like a ballet dancer.
When my spirit is low, your silky legs are its enhancer.
My poetic Muse, you I must never lose.
I will die of despair if you ever me refuse.
A beauty to be prized, you'll never be despised.
A born model, in my song you'll be immortalized.
