I met him at a party just a couple of years ago,  He was rather over-hearty and ridiculous  But as I'd seen him on the screen he cast a certain spell.  I'd basked in his attraction  For 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 fell  Mad about the boy,  I know it's stupid  To be mad about the boy.  I'm so ashamed of it  But must admit  The sleepless nights  I've had about the boy.  On the silver screen  He melts my foolish heart  In every single scene.  Although I'm quite aware  That here and there  Are 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 schoolgirl  In the flurry of her first affair.  Will it ever cloy  This odd diversity of misery and joy  I'm feeling quite insane  And young again  And all because  I'm mad about the boy.  It seems a little silly  For a girl of my age and weight  To walk down Piccadilly in a haze of light.  It ought to take her a good deal more  To take a bad girl down.  I should've been exempt for my particular kind of fate  As taught me such contempt for every phase of love  And now I've been and spent my love torn crown  To weep about a painted clown.  Mad about the boy,  It's pretty funny  But I'm mad about the boy.  He has a gay appeal that makes me feel  There's maybe something sad about the boy.  Walking down the street  His 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 way  I'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 magic  That would finally destroy  This dream that pains me and it shames me  But I can't because I'm mad about the boy.