If you were drowning, I'd come to the rescue,
        wrap you in my blanket and pour hot tea.
If I were a sherif, I'd arrest you
        and keep you in a cell under lock and key.

If you were a bird, I'd cut a record
        and listen all night long to your high-pitched trill.
If I were a sergeant, you'd be my recruit,
        and boy, I assure you, you'd love the drill.

If you were Chinese, I'd learn the language,
        burn a lot of incense, wear funny clothes.
If you were a mirror, I'd storm the Ladies',
        give you my red lipstick, and puff your nose.

If you loved volcanoes, I'd be lava,
        relentlessly erupting from my hidden source.
And if you were my wife, I'd be your lover,
        because the Church is firmly against divorce.