You're not the prettiest girl in town,
and I'm not the only boy
with sullie clothes and a sullen frown,
so to hell with Valentine's,
to hell with perfume,
to hell with chocolates
and picnics
and Sinatra tunes.
'Cause while the rest of the girls
are drowning in roses
and songs he composes,
and while the rest of the guys
are all trying so hard,
oh girl, let's crash the party.
El Dorado on the lawn (hey hey hey!).
Let's burn holes in the carpets,
kicking, shouting, dancing,
on the tables all night long.
I'm not so good with sublety.
You wouldn't say that I'm the
picture of urbanity.
Never put much stock in suavity
or courtesy or chivalry or gallantry
or all that useless jewelry.
But while the rest of the girls
still sigh for the night
he was smiling politely,
and while the rest of the guys
are all trying so hard,
oh girl, let's crash the party.
El Dorado on the lawn (hey hey hey!).
Let's burn holes in the carpets,
kicking, shouting, dancing
on the tables all night long.
All night long.