Somewhere That's Green

A matchbox of our own，
A fence of real chain link，
A grill out on the patio，
Disposal in the sink，
A washer and a dryer and，
An ironing machine，
In a tract house that we share，
Somewhere that's green，
He rakes and trims the grass，
He loves to mow and weed，
I cook like Betty Crocker，
And I look like Donna Reed，
There's plastic on the furniture，
To keep it neat and clean，
In the Pine-Sol scented air，
Somewhere that's green，
Between our frozen dinner，
And our bed-time: nine-fifteen，
We snuggle watching Lucy，
On our big, enormous，
Twelve-inch screen，
I'm his December Bride，
He's father, he knows best，
Our kids watch Howdy Doody，
As the sun sets in the west，
A picture out of Better Homes and Gardens Magazine，
Far from Skid Row，
I dream we'll go，
Somewhere that's... green.