Sunday, Monday or Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or FridayI want you near,

Spoken:A tune from Cole Porter perhaps. Now there's a guy who

You may not be an angel, `cause angels are so fewBut

Speak low, when you speak loveOur summer day withers away too

You better watch outYou better not cryYou better not poutI'm telling

It's the wrong time, and the wrong placeThough your face is

solo by Beverly find me a gypsy and get

and marriage, love and marriageGo together like a horse and

call you Lady LuckBut there is room for doubtAt times,

Biltmore garage wants a grandBut we ain't got a grand

Take me, I'm yours if you'll take me, I want you

the tide rushes inPlants a kiss on the shoreThen rolls

I wonder what he'll think of meI guess he'll call me

is the one who'll end the search I'm making?Where

Nathan, concentrate on the gameThe town is up to

That old black magic has me in its spellThat old black

I'm gettin' married in the morningDing-dong, the bells are gonna chimeWe'll

I was seventeen, it was a very good yearIt

Spoken:Wherever we may be along about this time of year, our

Frank SinatraMiscellaneousI Cried For You (Now It's Your Turn To Cry