Frank got a crush on you, sweetie pieAll the

That old master painter from the faraway hills painted the violets

Sinatra any time you're gettin' low, 'stead of lettin'

summer smiles, the summer knows, and unashamed, she sheds

There is no great big endingNo sunset in the skyThere is

have been a roverI have walked aloneHiked a hundred highwaysNever

Would you like to swing on a starCarry moonbeams home in

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

gotta right to sing the bluesI gotta right to feel

I'm not much to look at, nothin' to seeJust glad I'm

night is the loneliest night of the week'Cause that's the

Chestnuts roasting on an open fireJack Frost nipping at your noseYuletide

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

1: Frank Sinatra, night (Silent night), holy night (Holy

got plenty of nothin' and nothin's plenty for meI

never feel a thing is realWhen I'm away from

is hereWhy doesn't my heart go dancing?Spring is hereWhy

The evening breeze caressed the trees tenderlyThe trembling trees embraced the

My heart is sad and lonelyFor you I sigh, for you

Let's get lost, lost in each other's armsLet's get lost, let