| What’s the wine like? |
| What’s the beer?
|
| What a deluxe, uptown, gala quagmire
|
| I thought you’d be here
|
| What’s the wine like? |
| What’s the beer?
|
| It’s a damp night up the lane
|
| Don’t those lights on the lawn look left out
|
| In the soft, summer rain?
|
| It’s a damp night up the lane
|
| Rose Marie, can you help me find clear skies?
|
| Rose Marie, could I still shine in your eyes?
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| I’m a song bird, I’m a tune
|
| I’ve been blue since
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| They paved Pittman Pond
|
| But I’ll soar again soon
|
| I’m a songbird, I’m a tune
|
| Rose Marie, can you help me find clear skies?
|
| Rose Marie, could I still shine in your eyes?
|
| Eyes are like a window to the soul, they say
|
| And they still say love is blind;
|
| Anyway, I found you here
|
| Way up in this atmosphere
|
| Hangin' with the chandeliers
|
| And so refined, -fined, girl
|
| Could I hold you? |
| Could I still?
|
| Yeah, your bare shoulders shine sweet and soft
|
| But you might take a chill
|
| Could I hold you? |
| Could I still?
|
| Can I see you? |
| Can I soon?
|
| Could we meet in that joint on the point
|
| And look out for the moon?
|
| Can I see you? |
| Can I soon?
|
| Rose Marie, can you help me find clear skies?
|
| Rose Marie, could I still shine in your eyes?
|
| I dream of you, girl, with your dark, brown eyes |