High five, high five, the lad's a star, you see,
Six to eight-pack, a thug, wild and free.
A jailbird's touch, a fleeting, brief embrace,
Failed the tenth grade, a disgrace.
Polite, cultured, obedient, they say,
But whiskey and gambling hold him in their sway.
Go, go, fetch the boy, now, I implore,
Priest, please match their stars, and nothing more.
Sing, sing, celebrate the joyous day,
Oh priest, please match their stars, without delay.
He doesn't ask for dowry, that's the word,
He doesn't ask for dowry, barely heard,
Just a car, a mansion, a fixed deposit's grace,
Car, mansion, FD, to set the pace.
Innocent face, so simple, so wise,
Innocent face, so simple, so wise,
His third divorce, just yesterday, it seems,
His third divorce, shattering all dreams.
Sweet is his tongue, a truth-teller's art,
But sometimes, mother and sister's hearts
He breaks.
Bring him, bring the lad, without a pause,
Priest, please match their stars, defying all laws.
Sing, sing, celebrate the joyous day,
Oh priest, please match their stars, come what may.
May his heart find solace in your form,
And in your wealth, contentment, safe and warm.
Listen, Simran, darling, live your life anew,
A perfect, virtuous groom, we've found for you.
A groom we've found, a groom we've found, a brute!
A groom we've found! Go, fetch the boy, now, I implore,
Priest, please match their stars, forevermore.
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