Wake up, it’s cryin’ time again, m’ little Susie.
Y’know we told your daddy we’d be home by ten,
but ’cause the movie was a snore we both got snoozy --
and it’s 4 a.m … what trouble we are in!

Now, what’s the story that we’re gonna hand your mamma?
Can you think of something we can tell you pop?
And is there any way we can correct the drama
our school pals’ll conjure sayin’, “Ooh-la-la”?

You know our goose is cooked, we’ve lost our reputation
just because we weren’t home ‘til after four.
Their “ puttin’ two-and-two together” conjugation
will have folks callin’ me a cad and you a whore.

So, I guess we really goofed, m’ little Susie.
I just hope your folks’ll let us date again.
At least I didn’t bring you home knocked-up or boozy --
there’s worse kinds of trouble that we could be in.

-----

'Tis bad luck they live in that town without pity
-- so like Harper Valley, Peyton Place, or worse --
where folks must hide what fun they have, like Walter Mitty,
else become the object of communal curse.