Don't ask me
not to sing. I've simply got to sing.
In two or three, four time,
always I'm entertaining.
He's waited oh so long.
He's felt so low so long.
His eyes do vocalize,
recognize no restraining.
Maybe you will view his ef forts with pain,
even so you know he cannot refrain.
There's not a thing about for him to sing about,
but there's no reason he won't furnish you a song.
Why was I born with a
song in my heart?
On most every occasion, with little persuasion,
I find that a ballad's about to start.
With carols gay, his paths are strewn.
For whatever I'm do ing,
I'm sure to be brewing a dear little ditty or tinkling to you.
Don't ask him not to sing,
he's simply got to sing.
Into a three -four time,
always he's entertaining.
And you can bet your eyes that when I fletcherize a juicy steak or chop,
I don't stop my refraining
Afternoon I croon then
sing in the dark in my tub
I scrub and sing like a lark though. I may
lose the soap. I yodel as I grope
There's not a thing I do I don't do
with a song
Melody settles this my head -dripping,
daily -dipping world along.
When day is done an d my prayers are said,
I am chirping some one -steps or popular fun
steps that tickle my toes when I go to bed.
And dawns the day with rainbow hues.
While putting my pants on, yodel a chanson,
or syn copate sadly the breakfast blues.
Don't ask him not to sing,
he's simply got to sing.
Into a three -four time,
always he's entertaining.
In parks, on benches there,
I sing to wenches there.
And though we may get wet,
we duet while it's raining.
Melody soft and cold, melody loud and strong,
melody senseless, so melodic, idiotic, diatonic, megaphonic,
Rousy, rousy, oh so rousy!
Well done!