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
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
Who she met there
Every day
Was a question
Answered by none
But she'd get there
And she'd stay there
'Til 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'
Although 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 organized 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 rolling eye
She was ready to hitchhike
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 Rogers
Gave her pearls as large as
Nuts on a chestnut tree
All she'd say was
'Fiddle-di-dee
The wages of sin will 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'