| If you’re romantic temperamentally
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| You must restrain it all you can
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| If you see life too sentimentally
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| You’ll never find your man
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| You’ll build such terribly pedantic dreams
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| But your romantic scheme may go awry
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| Your thoughts are such
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| You claim too much
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| And love will pass you by
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| Mary make believe
|
| Dreamed the whole day through
|
| Foolish fancies, love romances
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| How could they come true
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| Mary make believe
|
| Sighed a little up her sleeve
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| Nobody claimed her
|
| They only named her
|
| Mary make believe
|
| She’s just a girl who’s always blowing mental bubbles
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| Till she’s quite our of breath, quite out of breath
|
| She seems to have the knack of magnifying troubles
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| Till they crush her to death, crush her to death
|
| She’s just a duffer of the ineffective kind
|
| She’s bound to suffer from her introspective mind
|
| Her indecisions quite prevent her visions coming true
|
| Imagination is a form of flagellation
|
| If a sensitive child lets it run wild
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| It dims the firmament
|
| Till all the world is permanently blue
|
| She’s simply bound to make a bloomer
|
| Until she’s found her sense of humour
|
| If love should touch her ever
|
| She’ll never, never see it through
|
| Nobody claimed her
|
| They only named her—
|
| Mary make believe
|
| Noel Coward, w. |
| Orchestra
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| Dir. |
| Carroll Gibbons
|
| Recorded 27th April 1928 |