Why did he look at her that way?
Why did he look at her that way?
Must be my imagination.
She's a lovely blooming flower, he's just a sprout--
Impossible!
She's a lovely blooming flower, he's all worn out--
Impossible!
Just a fledgeling in the nest...
Just a man who needs a rest...
He's a beamish boy at best.
Poor old fellow!
He's a child, and love's a test he's too young to pass--
Impassible!
He has asthma, gout, a wife, lumbago and gas--
Irascible!
Romping in the nursery...
He looks tired...
Son, sit on your father's knee.
Father, you can lean on me.
Him? I'm- Possible!
But why did she wave at him that way?
Why did she wave at him that way?
Could there be an explanation?
Women often want a father, she may want mine--
It's possible!
He's a handsome lad of twenty,
I'm...thirty-nine--
It's possible!
Older men know so much more...
In a way, I'm forty-four...
Next to him, I'd seem a bore.
All right, fifty!
Then again, he is my father;
I ought to trust--
Impossible!
Then again, with love at my age,
sometimes it's just
Impossible!
With a girl I'm ill at ease...
I don't feel well...
Sir, about those birds and bees--
Son, a glass of water, please.
The situation's fraught,
Fraughter than I thought,
With horrible, impossible, possibilities!