Lyrics: Stephen Sondheim
Music: Stephen Sondheim
Who,
Who could be blue,
Knowing there is you somewhere nearby?
When
Anyone feels your glow,
Their low
Has to get high.
We'll have a little white house（Who）
With a little white fence（Who could be blue）
Made of pickets.
A house on a hill（Knowing there is）
Where If nature consents,（you somewhere nearby）
We'll have crickets.
At the end of the day（When）
You'll come home to your favorite easy chair.（Anyone feels your glow,）
His favorite pipe and his favorite type（Their low）
Of a girl are there.（Has to get high.）
We’ll have a little pink boy,（So how）
Then a little pink girl,
Then another:（Could I allow）
A little snub nose（Anything now）
And a little spit curl（to dim my eye?）
Like her mother.
We‘ll stay home nights（With you,）
With the nippers,
Him with his pipe,（Long as there's you with me,）
The dog with his slippers,
In our ever bright（The only thing blue is the）
Little white house.（sky.）