Sensitivity, sensitivity

I'm just loaded with that

In this one word is the epitome of the aristocrat

Sensitive soul and sensitive stomach

Sensitive hands and feet

This is the blessing, also the curse

Of being the true elite

Common people don't know what

Exquisite agony is

Suffered by gentle people like me

Just get your hands off me!

Think up a tricky test

For that wretched moat-swimming princess

Madam, may I suggest?

Maybe we ought to

Don't take all night

I'm not well, I need my rest

Not that I ever sleep

On that lumpy mattress—oh, God, my back!

Sensitivity, bane of royalty

That bed's a torture rack

Oh, I hate to sound grumpy

But my nerves are so jumpy

I am sure I could feel any lump

Even if it were under a mattress

And small as a pea

That's the answer! Under the mattress!

We'll test her tonight

One tiny pea beneath one thick, downy mattress

Oh God, you're bright!

Any genuine princess would feel it

If she doesn't, she's through

Get the tiniest pea and order one mattress—no, make it two!

Why not five?

Ten, I think, would be plenty

Better still, make it twenty

And to play it safe, in the event

Even that's not enough to ensure that she sleeps

We'll give her a soothing sedative, won't we?

You can whip up a drink

Something stunning!

Ah

Oh, but you're devilish! I love the way you think

She's insensitive, so insensitive

She'll fall asleep, no doubt

Ha ha ha!

God, but you're clever, brilliant, a genius

You are divine!

Get out!