Daughter of a Haberdasher

Father hems for him, but hems her into mohair
Reciting Threaded hymns made daddy such a Huckster
Oh she's feeling oh so lousy
She looks so cute when she's pouting
Hang it! The boys are gawsy
She's forced to lie in tawdry
Oh father
Father's forming figure eights
Look he's forming figure eights
Securing seams of bitter hate

She was the daughter of a haberdasher
At arm's length, you know he never reached her
And every time the entry bells din
He pokes his finger with a sewing pin

A doover, a doodad, a watchamacallit
Daughter dear, You know he's got it
But he doesn't have you anymore
A lost scrap amidst the grandeur
A motif, she wants to be more
It's time to close the store
She flipped the sign and he locked the door

So, Who receives the ballyhoo
Breasts are double breasted suits
Lose the silly attitude
A noose, he is her button loop

Father's caress to a torso form
He never kept his daughter warm

She was the daughter of a haberdasher
And ever since her leaving, he pokes his finger with a pin



Credits
Writer(s): Jiles Beaver
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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