Your mother didn't like the church: She would prefer a bigger one, And all those photos at the birch Were really blurred and badly done. My mother quarrelled with your dad About the price of caviar And quality of fruit. He said How rude and plain my parents are. You didn't like the purple tie And cuff links made of ruby stone Because they didn't match your eye. The bride-mate chatting on the phone Didn't let me call Jacqueline And tell her change the tablecloth From baby pink to olive green And ask her not to make the both. Somebody broke the flower arch, I couldn't find my satin glove… The orchestra was playing march; Just wedding fuss, and where is love?