I want him smart as a button
But not quite as smart as me
I want him beautiful as ice-cream
In a way only I can see
I want to take him home to my mother
And she’ll smile and count to three
Yeah baby, that’s the kind of man.

I want his laugh to be dirty
And his conscience to be clean
I want to hear I look enchanting
In my oldest pair of jeans
I want to tell him that I’m tired
And he’ll know just what I mean
Yeah baby, that’s the kind of man.

That’s the kind of man who I’ll run home to
That’s the kind of man who’ll understand
That’s the kind of man I’m waiting here for
With a snowball in my hand

We’ll play kiss-chase in the car park
We’ll play bluegrass in the sun
He’ll let me win at poker
And insist I should’ve won
He’ll call my pie exotic
When it’s really overdone
Yeah baby, that’s the kind of man.