I’m not your ordinary florist
I pick my flowers from the ground
If you can find me where I pick them
I’ll sell you kisses, kisses by the pound

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, you claim to be in love
But the man who buys you violets doesn’t look you in the eye
when he says that you’re the one
I’m just a casual observer of the hustle, the bustle, the midweek fervor
with which we buy moments when we don’t have time
to pick them all ourselves

Sarah comes on Tuesdays to buy daffodils for Juan
She thinks that it’s the flowers keep him laughing on her lawn
Doesn’t know, doesn’t know, doesn’t know how love can be so sweet
Well I can smell the desperation in the stack of her receipts

I’m not your ordinary florist
I pick my flowers from the ground
If you can find me where I pick them
Oh, love can be tyrannical
Me, I’m just botanically so

From morning’s golden glory ‘til night has drawn the shades
I’ll tell you all my Latin for your pretty pennies paid
But I don’t work on weekends, no, weekends are my own
For if I did, then darling tell me, how would all the lovin’ get grown?

I don’t work on weekends, but if I did all the poppies would be free
I don’t work on weekends, no, no, no, no…
For if I did, then darling tell me, how would all the lovin’ get grown?

I’m not your ordinary florist
I pick my flowers from the ground
If you can find me where I pick them
I’ll sell you kisses, kisses by the pound