I met him at a party just a couple of years ago, He was rather over-hearty and ridiculous But as I'd seen him on the screen he cast a certain spell. I'd basked in his attraction For a couple of hours or so. His manners were a fraction too meticulous, If he was real or not, I couldn't tell, But like a silly fool I fell Mad about the boy, I know it's stupid To be mad about the boy. I'm so ashamed of it But must admit The sleepless nights I've had about the boy. On the silver screen He melts my foolish heart In every single scene. Although I'm quite aware That here and there Are traces of that cared about the boy. Lord knows I'm not a fool girl, I really shouldn't care. Lord knows I'm not a schoolgirl In the flurry of her first affair. Will it ever cloy This odd diversity of misery and joy I'm feeling quite insane And young again And all because I'm mad about the boy. It seems a little silly For a girl of my age and weight To walk down Piccadilly in a haze of light. It ought to take her a good deal more To take a bad girl down. I should've been exempt for my particular kind of fate As taught me such contempt for every phase of love And now I've been and spent my love torn crown To weep about a painted clown. Mad about the boy, It's pretty funny But I'm mad about the boy. He has a gay appeal that makes me feel There's maybe something sad about the boy. Walking down the street His eyes look out at me from people that I meet. I can't believe it's true, But when I'm blue, in some strange way I'm glad about the boy. I'm hardly sentimental, Love isn't so sublime. I have to pay my rental And I can't afford to waste much time. If I could employ a little magic That would finally destroy This dream that pains me and it shames me But I can't because I'm mad about the boy.