Flower Drum Song (Musical) - Gliding Through My Memory


Gliding Through My Memory

I am a vagabond sailor,
All my friends call me "sport."
I am a fellow for action,
Any storm in a port.
(Any storm in a port, ha?... Back to the laundry!)
Now that I'm home and I'm resting
Home from over the sea,
All of the girls who adored me
Go gliding through my memoree.
A sweet colleen from Ireland,
Her hair was fiery red,
Her eyes gave out a green light
That said I could go ahead.
(Say somehing in Irish. -- Elin go Blah.)
I met a girl in Sweden
Of whom I grew quite fond,
A stately Scandinavian type,
A buxom, blue-eyed blonde.
And then in merry England,
A girl who worshipped me,
Gliding through me memoree;
That's how I see them,
Gliding through me memoree!
In sunny Barcelona,
A dancing chick I picked.
Her castanets were clicking
Like nothing ever clicked.
(--Ole!-- You can say that again!)
A very friendly ma'mselle,
In oo-la-la Paree,
She was a girl who couldn't say
Anything but --Oui!--
'Twas fun to cast an anchor
In lovely Casablancer.
I loved a Grecian doll and
Another doll in Holland,
But of all the girls in ev'ry hemisphere
There is no one like the girl have right here.
Submitted by Kmiltreu on Tue, 13/03/2018 - 23:22


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