Old man sunshine, listen you, never tell me dreams come true, just try it, and I'll start a riot. Beatrice, Fairfax, don't you dare ever tell me he will care, I'm certain it's the final curtain. I never want to hear from any cheerful Pollyannas, who tell you fate supplies a mate. It's all bananas, they're writing songs of love, but not for me. A lucky star above, but not for me. With love to lead the way, I've found more clouds of grey than any Russian play could guarantee. I was a fool to fall and get that way, hi-ho, alas, and also lackadais. Although I can't dismiss the memory of his kiss, I guess he's not for me. Thanks for watching!
