Oh, by gosh, by gollyIt's time for mistletoe and hollyTasty pheasants,

Frank I was twenty-oneIt was a very good yearIt

olden days a glimpse of stockingWas looked on as something

love of mine goes on and onThough life is

I like New York in JuneHow about you?I like a Gershwin

What is America to meA name, a map, or a flag

home, babyCome home, babyCome home, babyCome home, sleep in

(Feelin' kinda Sunday, feelin' kinda Sunday, feelin' kinda Sunday)(Feelin' kinda Sunday,

this could only happen to a guy like meAnd only

Oh, it's a long, long time from May to DecemberBut the

To love - and be lovedThat's what life's - all aboutKeeps

moonYou saw me standin' aloneWithout a dream in my

(When you're near, the murmuring of the breeze)(Becomes a symphony)(A rhapsody)And

Hide your heart from sight, lock your dreams at nightIt could

I've had my moments, I will confessMy fleeting moments of tendernessI

Bali Ha'i may call you any night, any dayIn your heart

Dry your eyes and take your song outIt's a newborn afternoonIf

My thoughts may strayMy eyes may roamThe neighbor's grass may seem

There's no use of a moonlight glowOr the peaks where winter

Isn't she lovely, isn't she wonderful?Isn't she precious, less than one