She doesn't need money

She doesn't need diamonds

She's lookin' for pretty things

She doesn't want romance

She doesn't need finance

She's looking for rendezvous

But every time she's going down

She never looks around

I'll wait and watch her with my

Lens until she brings the curtain down

'There behind the keyhole'

With my fisheye

I'm back in the darkroom

I'm covered in fixer

I'm making a photograph

I'll send her some postcards

In glorious colour

I'm keeping the negatives

I'll form a letter from the news

With different type from different lines

I'll tell the world about her

I'll mail the People and the Times

'Oo it'll be so scandalous

For the both of them

But mainly her'

She showed them her husband

He ordered a dozen

He thought they were fabulous

The one with the

The two of the

And three of the

He sold her to Hefner

Who put her in Playboy

He gave her a centre-fold

I made a real blunder

She made it in movies

I made her a superstar