She might have been a teacher
A job that she'd adore . . .
She might have been a housewife
A wife and nothing more
She might have been an actress
Who might have played Broadway
But my husband had to be President
And what am I today?
I'm the first lady of the land
The first lady of the land
Standing on a receiving line
Winding up with an aching spine
Calluses on my receiving hand
As the first lady of the land
For every week a different hairdo
Which means another dress
Those meetings with committees
And sparring with the press
Those dreary formal dinners,
When I stay up till dawn
Counting all the silver
When the guests have gone
When they march out in single file
And I must smile, smile, smile
I'd rather be the second
Or the third or the fourth
Or the fifth or the sixth
Or the seventh instead of the first lady of the land
I'm the first lady of the land
The first lady of the land
Entertaining at lunch or tea
Do do-gooders who call on me
Telling of their noble deeds they've planned
For the first lady of the land
And oh the presents that they send me
An awful lot of junk
An un-housebroken poodle
A dehydrated skunk
A turkey for Thanksgiving
Potatas in a sack
But when they send me a diamond
I must send it back
When the whole cabinet arrives
And bring their wives, wives, wives
I'd rather be the second
Or the third or the fourth
Or the fifth or the sixth
Or the seventh instead of the first lady of the land