Who can make a bouquet, fresh with baby’s breath
Interspersed with fern sprigs, for the one whom he car-eth
The Pansy Man, Oh the Pansy Man can
The Pansy Man can ‘cause he loves to spruce things up and make the world look nice

Who can quote you Shakespeare, ‘…with the fume of sighs’
‘Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall,’ this guy
The Pansy Man, The Pansy Man can
The Pansy Man can while enjoying cocktail nuts and a stiff one on ice


The Pansy Man looks nothing like he cooks: the poster child of gayety
But if you want your hot and tasty, then he’s got your satiety


Oh, who can make baklava, better than a Greek
Barbecuing lamb chops with a side of ‘crème de leeks’
The Pansy Man, oh the Pansy Man can
The Pansy Man can ‘cause he’s gourmet all the way and adds a pinch of spice


The Pansy Man sews all of his own clothes most befitting for a princess
Talk about fairytale wishes, you have got to see his dresses


Yeah, yeah, yeah
Who can make Versace, look like they’re passé
Splits his ‘dizzy’ schedule between New York and L.A.
The Pansy Man, The Pansy Man can
The Pansy Man can ‘cause he stitches things with love and thinks the world of guys
Yes, the Pansy Man can ‘cause he puts the him in ‘hems’ and makes the world think twice
a-Pansy Man, a-Pansy Man, a-Pansy Man
Pansy Man, a-Pansy Man, a-Pansy Man
Pansy Man, a-Pansy Man, a-Pansy Man