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Now I should like to sing you a song about a simple
Country girl who always kept her eye on the future.

In a dear little village, remote and obscure
A beautiful maiden resided
As to whether or not her intentions were pure
Opinions were sharply divided

Lyrics continue below...

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She loved to lie out 'neath the darkening sky
And allow the night breeze to entrance her
She whispered her dreams to the birds flying by
But seldom received any answer

Over the field and along the lane
Gentle Alice would love to stray
When it came to the end of the day
She would wander away unheeding

Dreaming her innocent dreams, she strode
Quite unaffected by heat or cold
Frequently freckled or soaked with rain
Alice was out in the lane

Whom she met there, every day there
Was a question answered by none
But she'd get there and she'd stay there
Till whatever she did was undoubtedly done

Over the field and along the lane
Both her parents would call in vain
Sadly, sorrowfully, they'd complain
"Alice is at it again"

Though that dear little village surrounded by trees
Had neither a school nor a college
Gentle Alice acquired from the birds and the bees
Some exceedingly practical knowledge

The curious secrets that nature revealed
She refused to allow to upset her
But she thought, when observing the beasts of the field
That things might have been organised better

Over the field and along the lane
Gentle Alice would make up and take up her stand
The road was not exactly arterial, but it led to a town nearby
Where quite a lot of masculine material caught her roving eye

She was ready to hitch-hike
Cadillac or motorbike, she wasn't proud or choosy
All she was aiming to be
Was a pinked-up, minked-up, fly-by-night floozy

When old Rajahs gave her pearls
As large as nuts on a chestnut tree
All she'd say was "Fiddle-dee-dee
The wages of sin'll be the death of me"

Over the field and along the lane
Gentle Alice's parents would wait hand-in-hand
Her dear old white-headed Mother, wistfully sipping Champagne, said
"We've spoiled our child, spared the rod, open up the caviar
And say 'Thank God', we've got no cause to complain
Alice is at it again!"

Writer(s): NOEL COWARD

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