Makin’ Whoopee! Songtext
von Neil Gaiman & Amanda Palmer

Another bride,
Another tune,
Another sunny
Honeymoon,
Another season,
Another reason,
For makin′ whoopee.
A lot of shoes,
A lot of rice,
The groom is nervous,
He answers twice.
It's really killin′,
That he's so willin',
To make whoopee.
Picture a little lovenest,
Down where the roses play.
Picture that same sweet lovenest,
Think what a year can bring.
He′s washing dishes,
And babyclothes,


He′s so ambitious,
He even sows.
So don't forget folks,
That′s what you get folks,
For makin' whoopee.
Another year,
Or maybe less,
What′s this I hear,
Oh can't she guess,
She feels neglected,
And he′s suspected,
Of makin' whoopee.
She sits at home,
'Most every night,
He doesn′t phone,
He doesn′t write,
He says he's busy,
But she says: Is he?
He′s makin' whoopee.
He doesn′t make much money
...well
Only five ...
Only five thousand pounds.
Some judge who thinks he is funny
"You'll give six to her."
And he says:
"Judge, suppose I fail..."
The judge says:
"Budge, right into jail,
You′d better keep her,
I think it's cheaper,
Than makin' whoopee.