Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Put On Your Sunday Clothes, artist - Michael Crawford. Date of issue: 31.12.1993
Song language: English
Put On Your Sunday Clothes |
| Out there, there’s a world outside of Yonkers |
| Way out there beyond this hick town, Barnaby |
| There’s a slick town, Barnaby |
| Out there, full of shine and full of sparkle |
| Close your eyes and see it glisten, Barnaby |
| Listen, Barnaby |
| Put on your Sunday clothes there’s lots of world out there |
| Get out the brilliantine and dime cigars |
| We’re gonna find adventure in the evening air |
| Girls in white, in a perfumed night |
| Where the lights are bright as the stars |
| Put on your Sunday clothes we’re gonna ride through town |
| In one of those new horse drawn open cars |
| We’ll see the shows at Delmonico |
| And we’ll close the town in a whirl |
| And we won’t come home until we’ve kissed a girl |
| Put on your Sunday clothes when you feel down and out |
| Strut down the street and have your picture took |
| Dressed like a dream, your spirits seem to turn about |
| That Sunday shine is a certain sign that you feel as fine as you look |
| Beneath your parasol, the world is all the smile |
| That makes you feel brand new down to your toes |
| Get out your feathers, your patent leathers |
| Your beads and buckles and bows |
| For there’s no blue Monday in your Sunday |
| No Monday in your Sunday |
| No Monday in your Sunday clothes |
| Put on your Sunday clothes when you feel down and out |
| Strut down the street and have your picture took |
| Dressed like a dream, your spirits seem to turn about |
| That Sunday shine is a certain sign that you feel as fine as you look |
| Beneath your parasol, the world is all the smile |
| That makes you feel brand new down to your toes |
| Get out your feathers, your patent leathers |
| Your beads and buckles and bows |
| For there’s no blue Monday in your Sunday clothes |
| Put on your Sunday clothes when you feel down and out |
| Strut down the street and have your picture took |
| Dressed like a dream, your spirits seem to turn about |
| That Sunday shine is a certain sign that you feel as fine as you look |
| Beneath your bowler brim the world’s a simple song |
| A lovely love that makes you tilt your nose |
| Get out your slickers, your flannel knickers |
| Your red suspenders and hose |
| For there’s no blue Monday in your Sunday clothes |
| Ermengarde keep smiling no man wants a little ninny |
| Ambrose do a turn, let me see |
| Mr.Hackl, Mr. Tucker, don’t forget Irene and Minnie |
| Just forget you ever heard a word from me |
| All aboard, all aboard |
| All aboard, all aboard |
| Aboard |
| Put on your Sunday clothes there’s lots of world out there |
| Put on your silk cravat and patent shoes |
| We’re gonna find adventure in the evening air |
| To town we’ll trot, to a smoky spot where the girls are hot as a fuse |
| Put on your silk high hat and at the turned up cuff |
| We’ll wear a hand made gray suede buttoned glove |
| We wanna take New York by storm |
| We’ll join the Astors at Tony Pastor’s |
| And this I’m positive of that we won’t come home |
| No, we won’t come home |
| No, we won’t come home until we fall in love |