Carry on til tomorrow, there’s no reason to look back
The sun will come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
'Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow!
Tomorrow!
I love ya
Tomorrow!
You’re always a day away
Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger
You may see a stranger across a crowded room
And somehow you know, you know even then
That somehow you’ll see her again and again
Strangers in the night
Exchanging glances
Wondering in the night
What were the chances
We’d be sharing love
Before the night was through?
I would like you to dance (Birthday)
Take a cha-cha-cha-chance (Birthday)
I would like you to dance (Birthday)
Dance
So let me get you in your birthday suit
It’s time to bring out the big balloons
So let me get you in your birthday suit
It’s time to bring out the big, big, big, big, big, big balloons
Would you like to ride in my beautiful balloon
Would you like to ride in my beautiful balloon
We could float among the stars together, you and I
For we can fly, we can fly
Leavin’ home, out on the road
I’ve been down before
Ridin’ along in this big ol’ jet plane
I’ve been thinkin’ about my home
But my love light seems so far away
And I feel like it’s all been done
Somebody’s tryin’ to make me stay
You know I’ve got to be movin’ on
Oh, oh big ol’ jet airliner
Don’t carry me too far away
Oh, oh big ol’ jet airliner
'Cause it’s here that I’ve got to stay
Bye-bye, biplane
Once-upon-a-sky plane
Bye-bye, hush a bye
Lulla-biplane
A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain
Softly blows over Lullaby bay
It fills the sails of boats that are waiting
Waiting, to sail your worries away
It isn’t far to Hushabye Mountain
And your boat waits down by the key
The winds of night, so softly are sighing
Soon they will fly your troubles to sea
After the turn of the century
In the clear blue skies over Germany
Came a roar and a thunder men had never heard
Like the screamin’ sound of a big war bird
Up in the sky, a man in a plane
Baron von Richthofen was his name
Eighty men tried, and eighty men died
Now they’re buried together on the countryside
Those magnificent men in their flying machines,
they go up tiddly up up,
they go down tiddly down down.
They enchant all the ladies and steal all the scenes,
with their up tiddly up up
and their down tiddly down down.
Up, down, flying around,
looping the loop and defying the ground.
They’re all frightfully keen,
those magnificent men in their flying machines.
Flew in from Miami Beach, BOAC
Didn’t get bed last night,
On the way the paper bag was on my knee,
Man, I had a dreadful flight
I’m back in the USSR…
The Joke Shop Man has lots of gags
He wraps them up in paper bags
Like sneezing powder, snakes and rubber feet
Dealin’ cards with the old men in the club car,
A penny a point, no one’s keepin’ score
Won’t you pass the paper bag that holds the bottle,
Feel the wheels rumblin’ under the floor…
I don’t want a pickle
I just wanna ride my motorsickle
And we’ll see the world from my Harley
We’ll see the world from my Harley
We’ll see the world from my Harley, if the chain don’t break
See the USA in your Chevrolet
America is asking you to call
Drive your Chevrolet through the USA
America’s the greatest land of all
They haunt this dusty beach road in the skeleton frames of burned-out Chevrolets
When the night wind howls
in the chimney cowls,
and the bat in the moonlight flies,
And inky clouds,
like funeral shrouds,
sail over the midnight skies –
When the footpads quail
at the night-bird’s wail,
and black dogs bay at the moon,
Then is the spectres’ holiday –
then is the ghosts’ high-noon!
Ha! ha!
Then is the ghosts’ high-noon!