An updated folk song*
Come girls, come, and listen to my noise,
Don't you marry the Mormon boys.
For if you do, your fortune it will be
Jello molds and babies are all you'll see.
When they come a-courting, this is what they'll wear:
A white shirt and tie and side-parted hair.
And when they come a courtin', I'll tell you what they'll say:
"Come on, Sister, we can't go out until we pray."
They will lead you out of the singles ward,
And marry you in the eyes of the Lord.
And before that wedding you can only embrace,
For that's the way of the Mormon race.
Your reception'll be in the cultural hall,
And temple pictures will hang on your wall.
You'll put Enrichment-made crafts on your door,
And worry all day 'bout the cleanness of your floor.
Root beer is root beer any way you mix it,
A Mormon's a Mormon any way you fix it.
When other good folks have all gone to bed,
The Mormon's awake reading scriptures instead!
*This parody is loosely based on the versions found here, here, here, and here.