On that damp September eve in Rome, Italy
At the romantic fountain of Trevi
Mark got down on bended knee
And said the words ‘will you marry me?’
He produced the most sparkly, stunning ring
And said ‘it’s for you the most beautiful thing
I’ve ever known in this life
Would you do me the honour and become my wife?’
Coins bounced off the top of your umbrella
As Mark waited patiently on his wet patella
You finally accepted as you loved this fella
Then you rang your daughter you just couldn’t wait to tell her
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