I used to dream that I would discover
The perfect lover some day.
I knew I'd recognize him
If ever he came 'round my way.
I awlays used to fancy then
He's be one of the God-like kind of men
With a giant brain and a noble head
Like the heroes bold in the books I read;

But along came Bill,
Who's not the type at all,
You'd meet him on the street and never notice him;
His form and face,
His manly grace
Are not the kind that you
Would find a statue
And I can't explain,
It's surely not his brain
That makes me thrill.
I love him
Because he's wonderful
Because he's just old Bill.

He can't play gold, or tennis, or polo,
Or sing a solo, or row.
He isn't half as handsome
As dozens of men that I know.
He isn't tall and straight and slim,
And he dresses far worse than Ted or Jim;
And I can't explain why he should be just
The one, one man in the world for me;

He's just my Bill,
An ordinary boy,
He hasn't got a thing that I can brag about
And yet to be
Upon his knee
So comfy and roomy
Feels natural to me
And I can't explain
It's surely not his brain
That makes me thrill.
I love him
Because he's Bill.