She fell in love with Freddie, her accountant,
his pencil it was sharp, his columns neat;
he loved her for her company and cookin'
and it was for his figures she loved him.
On Friday nights she'd fix a homecooked dinner,
and he'd do up the dishes (he was meek)
they'd have some wine to hurry their digestion,
and then they'd sit and watch their Wall Street Week.
She loved him best in times of high inflation,
and when his chart was pointing at the skies,
her love for him was like the Forbes five hundred:
she loved him when his stock began to rise.
And those of us who knew her made a fortune;
we'd check on her and know to buy or sell,
because she'd be a smilin' or a frownin'
depending if his index rose or fell.