I met him at a party just a couple of years ago,He was rather over-hearty and ridiculousBut as I'd seen him on the screen he cast a certain spell.I'd basked in his attractionFor a couple of hours or so.His manners were a fraction too meticulous,If he was real or not, I couldn't tell,But like a silly fool I fellMad about the boy,I know it's stupidTo be mad about the boy.I'm so ashamed of itBut must admitThe sleepless nightsI've had about the boy.On the silver screenHe melts my foolish heartIn every single scene.Although I'm quite awareThat here and thereAre traces of that cared about the boy.Lord knows I'm not a fool girl,I really shouldn't care.Lord knows I'm not a schoolgirlIn the flurry of her first affair.Will it ever cloyThis odd diversity of misery and joyI'm feeling quite insaneAnd young againAnd all becauseI'm mad about the boy.It seems a little sillyFor a girl of my age and weightTo walk down Piccadilly in a haze of light.It ought to take her a good deal moreTo take a bad girl down.I should've been exempt for my particular kind of fateAs taught me such contempt for every phase of loveAnd now I've been and spent my love torn crownTo weep about a painted clown.Mad about the boy,It's pretty funnyBut I'm mad about the boy.He has a gay appeal that makes me feelThere's maybe something sad about the boy.Walking down the streetHis eyes look out at me from people that I meet.I can't believe it's true,But when I'm blue, in some strange wayI'm glad about the boy.I'm hardly sentimental,Love isn't so sublime.I have to pay my rental And I can't afford to waste much time.If I could employ a little magicThat would finally destroyThis dream that pains me and it shames meBut I can't because I'm mad about the boy.