Your mother didn't like the church:

She would prefer a bigger one,

And all those photos at the birch

Were really blurred and badly done.

My mother quarrelled with your dad

About the price of caviar

And quality of fruit. He said

How rude and plain my parents are.

You didn't like the purple tie

And cuff links made of ruby stone

Because they didn't match your eye.

The bride-mate chatting on the phone

Didn't let me call Jacqueline

And tell her change the tablecloth

From baby pink to olive green

And ask her not to make the both.

Somebody broke the flower arch,

I couldn't find my satin glove…

The orchestra was playing march;

Just wedding fuss, and where is love?

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