Getting Married Today Lyrics – Company

Song Overview

Song Credits

• Producer: Thomas Z. Shepard
• Writer: Stephen Sondheim
• Orchestration: Jonathan Tunick
• Musical Director: Harold Hastings
• Album: Company (Original Broadway Cast)
• Release Date: 1970-05-13
• Genre: Broadway, Musical Theatre, Pop
• Language: English
• Label: Columbia Masterworks
• Performance: Beth Howland, Steve Elmore, Teri Ralston
• Copyright: © 1970 Columbia Records

Song Meaning and Annotations

This musical comedy first hit the stage in 1970, at a time when same-sex marriage wasn’t just controversial—it was legally nonexistent in the U.S., with nationwide legalization not arriving until 2015 via the Supreme Court. So naturally, every wedding depicted back then was framed around the traditional “husband joined to wife” dynamic. That standard got a notable update in the 2018 West End revival, where the role of Amy was gender-swapped to Jamie, reframing the entire sequence as a gay wedding. To make that adjustment feel authentic, the lyrics were revised to “Pinnacle of joy/Boy unites with boy,” mirroring the celebratory tone while reflecting the new relationship dynamic. Paul’s words, though outwardly full of cheer, carry a polished, rehearsed vibe that suggests he might be suppressing his anxiety. At least, that’s how they land when filtered through Amy’s frazzled point of view—she’s so deep in panic that even warmth from Paul sounds like a performance. Importantly, though, Amy never faults Paul. Her fear turns inward. She insists it’s her, not him, who’s the problem. In one verse, she spirals into, “Which is followed by a honeymoon where suddenly he’ll realize/He’s saddled with a nut and want to kill me, which he should.” It’s classic self-sabotage, casting herself as undeserving, almost grotesquely so. When Amy sings about being “showered,” the reference could go either way—baby showers, bridal showers, or just the visual of being bombarded with gifts. That kind of thing is everywhere in her age group; everyone around her is getting married or having babies, so it tracks. The lyrics start bending to Amy’s unraveling mental state, where joy morphs into tragedy, golden becomes dreadful, the heart doesn’t rise, it sinks. The “yoked” image is especially biting, with its connotation of cattle being forcibly hitched together. Meanwhile, a “wake” might be literal or symbolic—perhaps she sees this wedding as the death of her independence, and this day as her vigil. She then waves off her own ceremony, saying people wouldn’t care anyway, that it’s no different than any old christening or boat blessing. That line is both self-deprecating and socially observant, reducing her big moment to just another obligatory event. The nod to psychoanalysis slots neatly into the play’s mid-century New York context. Freud’s influence was still fashionable among upper-class circles, and therapy had become something of a status symbol. An “analyst” wasn’t just a doctor; it was a marker of cultural capital. That image—reclining on a couch, no eye contact, murmuring truths—makes its way into other works from the time too, like West Side Story’s satirical jab: “He needs an analyst’s care!... He’s psychologically disturbed!” The phrasing is clunky, maybe even mocking, but it captures the zeitgeist. Environmental allusions creep in too—the Hudson River, long polluted, was just starting to get some attention. In performance, that lyric is often whispered, adding a furtive edge. As Amy’s nerves unravel, even the weather joins in: thunder rolls in offstage right before “As it starts/ To rain.” One more thing crashing down. The Uncle Tom’s Cabin reference—Eliza leaping over ice—injects a metaphor of escape, desperation, and movement through danger. The apse, traditionally where weddings happen, becomes less a holy place and more a final step into confinement. There’s a fun historical tidbit about dyed shoes—back then, it was common to match them to dresses, which were often one-time wears. So why keep the shoes? Burn them. Or maybe Amy’s rejecting more than fashion. Tying shoes to the honeymoon car, or even tossing shoes at the couple—old wedding customs she wants no part of. Same with rice: a joyful tradition, but if she’s not going through with it, well… cook it instead. Even the word “day” doesn’t stay still—it starts clean, then slides into something more open and awkward, like the melody is sighing through the cracks of her composure.

Getting Married Today is Stephen Sondheim’s chaotic ode to commitment phobia, and perhaps one of Broadway’s most brilliant explosions of neurosis. Bursting from the eighth track of the original 1970 cast recording of Company, the song unleashes a blitzkrieg of lyrical frenzy and vocal pyrotechnics, especially from Beth Howland’s character Amy.

Scene Breakdown

The church is ready, the groom is smitten, and Amy... well, Amy is unraveling faster than a spool of wedding ribbon in a hurricane.

Pardon me, is everybody here? / Because if everybody's here / I want to thank you all for coming to the wedding / I'd appreciate your going even more

Her patter explodes like confetti—fast, manic, hilarious—and at the heart of it is a deeply relatable terror of permanence. The humor lies in the pacing, the relentless mental spiral rendered through unpunctuated run-ons, each word tapping like raindrops on stained glass.

Musical & Structural Genius

Sondheim structures the piece with genius-level musical architecture. Amy’s unending rant is juxtaposed with Paul’s calm, vow-like interludes and a Church Lady intoning hymnal blessings. It’s comedy by collision: ritual vs. rebellion, solemnity vs. panic.

This is a prehistoric ritual / Where everybody promises fidelity forever / Which is maybe the most horrifying word I ever heard

Here, Sondheim touches raw nerves of modern relationships. Amy’s fear is not simply about Paul, but about identity, autonomy, and society's demand for conformance.

The orchestration by Jonathan Tunick allows her spiral to feel almost orchestral in itself—more flight-of-the-bumblebee than bridal march.

Ending Irony

The climax isn't a resolution but a crescendo of collapse. Even as Paul insists, “With this ring,” Amy interrupts—again and again—“I am not getting married!” The choir ironically responds with “Amen,” sealing a sacrament that may never be.

Ultimately, Getting Married Today is a song about panic—but staged with such bravado and wit, it becomes a cathartic showstopper rather than a tragic breakdown. It captures the human absurdity of love, fear, and ceremony all tangled up in tulle and trauma.

Similar Songs

1. “Guns and Ships” by the Hamilton Cast – In speed and verbal dexterity, this rap-heavy juggernaut rivals “Getting Married Today.” Where Amy’s anxiety is fueled by social pressure, Lafayette’s bravado is based on confidence—but both test the limits of articulation in musical theatre.
2. “Not Getting Married Today” by Glee Cast – A faithful, energetic revival of the original, this version demonstrates the song's legacy and adaptability. It’s like Sondheim handed over the blueprints to future performers and dared them to keep up.
3. “Model Behavior” from Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown – Another Broadway gem that explores mental overload and modern female pressure with breakneck wit. If Amy had a cousin in another musical, it’d be Candela, nervously spiraling in style.

Questions and Answers

Why is “Getting Married Today” considered difficult to perform?

Because it’s essentially a controlled verbal explosion. The patter sections are dense, fast, and rhythmically intricate. It requires insane breath control and comedic timing to pull off successfully.

What does Amy’s character represent?

She embodies the anxiety and identity crisis provoked by marriage. Her rapid-fire doubts reflect deeper fears about societal roles, selfhood, and commitment.

How does Stephen Sondheim use rhyme and rhythm in this song?

Interestingly, Sondheim avoids rhyme during the most frantic parts to reflect Amy’s chaotic mind. Later, he adds sharp, tight rhymes to reflect an even more manic, desperate kind of clarity.

Is this song comedic or tragic?

Both. Its humor lies in its speed and exaggeration, but underneath the laughs is genuine panic—a cry for help beneath layers of showbiz gloss and bridal gowns.

Has the song been covered or parodied?

Yes, extensively. From Julie Andrews to the Glee Cast, many performers have taken on this challenge. It’s a Broadway badge of honor—and a vocal Everest for many.