Will she be your wife, have with   you scores of children to rush past your knees? Will she be your wife,   married in a service with the groom in black and the bride in white? Will I   be a bride someday? How will I approach it? Will I cry? Will I be a   bride, strapped into the shotgun seat of someone else's car until I die?   Oh, my goodly husband, will ours be a love to beat the band? Oh, my goodly   husband, or will I be pretending that I cannot live without a man?