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.