Beau Brummel Songtext

von Paul Roland

He steps from the carriage with the air of an Earl,
Pausing to smooth his cravat and urfurl himself
Like a peacock in a waistcoat of green
A Prince of perfection, a cool libertine.

He has an eye for the ladies its the one with a gleam,
He lives for good taste whether in black or in cream,
He will ignore you in ruffles he'll berate you in braid,
A Prince of perfection, a beau de brocade.

His gambling excusable a gentleman's pursuit,
His drinking quite laudible its beyond rebuke,
His manners impeccable, decorum with guile,
A Prince of perfection, a Sultan of style.

Hear his friends - all sneer,
Oh, their sharp reville,
Hear his friends - all sneer
"He sold his soul for style".