This girl, this entitled little...
Calm-down Carry,
But this girl, this Alice Paul.
What gall to call me an old fogey.
Since when am I an old fogey?
She thinks I'm obsolete, she oughta kiss my feet.
I lit the way for her, but no, she thinks she knows better.
Don't let her get to your head, focus on your speech instead.
What was I thinking enabling her?
I should've heeded the doubts I had from the start.
She's undeniably smart but so misguided.
I've labored for decades to craft a conservative image for suffrage,
But she makes us look like a horde of hysterical harpies,
With smoke blowing out of our ears.
What if she ruins what I have been mounting for years?
I did not count on this girl.
This girl.
I can't believe I am now viewed as the old guard,
And she, as the beacon of change.
Me, the old fogey.
How strange.
This girl.
Not this girl, raised by a penniless drunk,
Who refused to send her to school.
Not this girl who paid her own way through college,
Proving she's nobody's fool.
Who worked as the first woman superintendent,
Harassed by her boss, but managed to thrive.
Who married a man for a good reputation,
Then found herself widowed at age twenty-five.
Not this girl who flouted all feminine customs,
By joining the fight for the vote.
Not this girl who followed the lead of the movement,
Hiding her anger beneath her petticoat.
Who rose through the ranks,
By paying her dues,
And earned her place at the top.
Who transformed and expanded the organization,
And she's yet to see.
Not this girl you see before you now,
Who stands by each move that she's made,
This old fogey's time has come,
Dolan's time has come,
I want my whole goddamn life for respect for my sex,
And I will no longer allow this arrogant child,
To imperil our chance to be free,
Not me, not this girl!
This Girl Video (MV)
Jenn Colella - This Girl Lyrics
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This girl, this entitled little...
Calm-down Carry,
But this girl, this Alice Paul.
What gall to call me an old fogey.
Since when am I an old fogey?
She thinks I'm obsolete, she oughta kiss my feet.
I lit the way for her, but no, she thinks she knows better.
Don't let her get to your head, focus on your speech instead.
What was I thinking enabling her?
I should've heeded the doubts I had from the start.
She's undeniably smart but so misguided.
I've labored for decades to craft a conservative image for suffrage,
But she makes us look like a horde of hysterical harpies,
With smoke blowing out of our ears.
What if she ruins what I have been mounting for years?
I did not count on this girl.
This girl.
I can't believe I am now viewed as the old guard,
And she, as the beacon of change.
Me, the old fogey.
How strange.
This girl.
Not this girl, raised by a penniless drunk,
Who refused to send her to school.
Not this girl who paid her own way through college,
Proving she's nobody's fool.
Who worked as the first woman superintendent,
Harassed by her boss, but managed to thrive.
Who married a man for a good reputation,
Then found herself widowed at age twenty-five.
Not this girl who flouted all feminine customs,
By joining the fight for the vote.
Not this girl who followed the lead of the movement,
Hiding her anger beneath her petticoat.
Who rose through the ranks,
By paying her dues,
And earned her place at the top.
Who transformed and expanded the organization,
And she's yet to see.
Not this girl you see before you now,
Who stands by each move that she's made,
This old fogey's time has come,
Dolan's time has come,
I want my whole goddamn life for respect for my sex,
And I will no longer allow this arrogant child,
To imperil our chance to be free,
Not me, not this girl!
Calm-down Carry,
But this girl, this Alice Paul.
What gall to call me an old fogey.
Since when am I an old fogey?
She thinks I'm obsolete, she oughta kiss my feet.
I lit the way for her, but no, she thinks she knows better.
Don't let her get to your head, focus on your speech instead.
What was I thinking enabling her?
I should've heeded the doubts I had from the start.
She's undeniably smart but so misguided.
I've labored for decades to craft a conservative image for suffrage,
But she makes us look like a horde of hysterical harpies,
With smoke blowing out of our ears.
What if she ruins what I have been mounting for years?
I did not count on this girl.
This girl.
I can't believe I am now viewed as the old guard,
And she, as the beacon of change.
Me, the old fogey.
How strange.
This girl.
Not this girl, raised by a penniless drunk,
Who refused to send her to school.
Not this girl who paid her own way through college,
Proving she's nobody's fool.
Who worked as the first woman superintendent,
Harassed by her boss, but managed to thrive.
Who married a man for a good reputation,
Then found herself widowed at age twenty-five.
Not this girl who flouted all feminine customs,
By joining the fight for the vote.
Not this girl who followed the lead of the movement,
Hiding her anger beneath her petticoat.
Who rose through the ranks,
By paying her dues,
And earned her place at the top.
Who transformed and expanded the organization,
And she's yet to see.
Not this girl you see before you now,
Who stands by each move that she's made,
This old fogey's time has come,
Dolan's time has come,
I want my whole goddamn life for respect for my sex,
And I will no longer allow this arrogant child,
To imperil our chance to be free,
Not me, not this girl!
Writer: Shaina Gehring
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.