The duchess had manner, for dignity lurks
in the shadows of Debret.
but fate threw a spanner smack into the works,
tarnishing her coronet.

Three large sons were born to her,
But one sad morn to her,
There came a premonition of regret
(Said) the duchess well(?)
Something doesn't gel
Said the duchess well
Hell!

Imagine the duchess's feelings,
On having hatched out a brood,
To find her first son was weak, though well-mannered,
Her second rather stupid,
And the third plain rude.

Her eldest son, when in trouble, went white
Her second son looked blue and hung his head
But imagine the duchess's feelings,
When her youngest son went red!


She sent them to Etton, traditional youth
Was theirs whatever else they've got
But nothing could sweeten the bitterest truth,
That baby wasn't quite so hot

High life gave no joy to him.
The hoi polloi to him,
Provided something that his peers did not.
Said her grace aghast,
Is it going to last?
Said her grace aghast,
Last

Imagine the Duchess's feelings--
you could have pierced her with swords--
When she discovered her youngest, like(d) Lenin, (her pet lamb liked Lenin)
Had(and?) sold the Daily Worker near the House of Lords. (and)

Her eldest son went to Boodle's and White's upper-class clubs
Her second (joined the blues his father led?)
But imagine the Duchess's feelings,
When her youngest son went Red.

Imagine the duchess's feelings
Her overwhelming despair
To find her third son hobnobbed with the butler,
And sang the Internationale in Belgrave square

Her first son's debts bled the family white
Her second son blued everything and fled--
But imagine the Duchess's feelings,
When the apple of the eye went Red.
Poor mammy,
Her youngest son went red!

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): NOEL COWARD, NOEL PIERCE COWARD