When I first met you that day
I knew I never wanted to be away
From you, I knew that someday we’d be wed.
But I knew that even while we were engaged,
There might be times when we’d be away
From each other, and the thought filled me with dread.
So when I proposed, I suggested something to keep you close to me.
Some people joke that engaged couples are “joined at the hip”; and I took that literally.
When I proposed to you
And you agreed to our merger, we
Went right into surgery
And we came out as one.
Now we are conjoined —
Two arms, two legs, two heads for us,
Till the wedding, it’s separate beds for us,
Though that’s easier said than done.
And I never have to worry about us being apart
‘Cause I know that your blood is being pumped by my heart.
And we’re not just sharing our lives: We’re sharing DNA
We’re together every moment, my Siamese twin fiancee.
People think we’ve gone to extremes,
And some people look at us and scream
And run away, but they just don’t understand.
Everything you freely give me;
You’ve got my heart, and I’ve got your kidney,
I love cuddling on the couch, holding your/my/our hand.
I’m glad your internal organs have meshed so well with mine
And we made that tux/gown combo, so at the wedding, we’ll look fine.
I used to have two lungs of my own,
But I haven’t even missed ‘em
‘Cause I’m sharing a respiratory system
With my literal right-hand gal.
And I’m looking forward
To a bright and happy future,
Soon as they remove the sutures,
And the scars all heal as well.
And our prenuptial agreement says if we ever get divorced
You’ll get the car, the house, the kids — but I’ll keep the intestines, of course.
But I know that will never happen: We’ll be together till our final day.
I’m attached to you, and you’ve grown on me — my Siamese twin fiancee.
What doctors have sewn together,
Let no man put asunder,
We’re sort of like the Wonder
Twins, except without super powers.
And there’s some compromise —
You’ll have to come to my bachelor party,
But don’t get smug, my dear sweetheart —
I’ll be at your bridal shower.
And then that happy day will come, when I’ll take you for worse or for better.
And the wedding will be over in half the time, ‘cause we’ll march down the aisle together.
And I hesitate to say this, because it might be a cliche:
But you complete me, my Siamese twin fian–
There’s no one else’s side I’d rather be on;
When to use the bathroom is something I hope we agree on,
‘Cause you’re not someone I’d want to have to pee on —
[ad lib apology]
But as I was saying, you complete me, my Siamese twin fiancee.
