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| Category: - Artist:Guy Mitchell- Contributor:Webmaster | |
| Singing the Blues | |
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Well, I never felt more like singin' the blues 'cause I never thought that I'd ever lose Your love dear, why'd you do me this way? Well, I never felt more like cryin' all night 'cause everythin's wrong, and nothin' ain't right Without you, you got me singin' the blues. The moon and stars no longer shine The dream is gone I thought was mine There's nothin' left for me to do But cry-y-y-y over you (cry over you) Well, I never felt more like runnin' away But why should I go 'cause I couldn't stay Without you, you got me singin' the blues. instrumental and whistling Well, I never felt more like singin' the blues 'cause I never thought that I'd ever lose Your love dear, why'd you do me this way? Well, I never felt more like cryin' all night 'cause everythin's wrong, and nothin' ain't right Without you, you got me singin' the blues. Oh, the moon and stars no longer shine The dream is gone I thought was mine There's nothin' left for me to do But cry-y-y-y over you (cry over you) Well, I never felt more like runnin' away But why should I go 'cause I couldn't stay Without you, you got me singin' the blues | |
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| Title:Que Sera, Sera Artist: Doris Day - Contributor:Webmaster | |
| When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, "What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?" Here's what she said to me: "Que sera, sera, Whatever will be, will be; The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera, What will be, will be." When I was just a child in school, I asked my teacher, "What will I try? Should I paint pictures" Should I sing songs?" This was her wise reply: "Que sera, sera, Whatever will be, will be; The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera, What will be, will be." When I grew up and fell in love. I asked my sweetheart, "What lies ahead? Will we have rainbows Day after day?" Here's what my sweetheart said: "Que sera, sera, Whatever will be, will be; The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera, What will be, will be." Now I have Children of my own. They ask their mother, "What will I be?" Will I be handsome? Will I be rich?" I tell them tenderly: "Que sera, sera, Whatever will be, will be; The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera, What will be, will be. Que Sera, Sera!" | |
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