Buttons And Bows

East is East

And West is West

And the wrong one I have chose.

Let’s go where I’ll keep on wearin those frills and flowers and butons and bows,

Rings and things and buttons and bows.

Don’t bury me in this prairie,

Take me where the cement grows.

Let’s move down to some big town where they love a gal by the cut of her clothes,

And I’ll stand out in buttons and bows.

I love you in buckskin or skirts that you’ve homespun

But I’ll love ya longer, stronger,

Where your friends don’t tote a gun.

My bones denounce the buck-board bounce and the cactus hurts my toes.

Let’s vamoose whtere gals keep usin’ those silks and satins and linen that shows,

And I’m all yours in but-tons and bows.

Glim me eastern trimmi n’ where wonen are wonen in high silk hose and peekaboo clothes,

And French perfume, that rocks the room,

And I’m all yours in Buttons and Bows,

Buttons and Bows, Buttons and Bows.