Young Men Gone West

Honeymooners, she was a dying breed Honeymooners, I married a female lead. Palm court crooners Here more to her taste, But I was a three time loser with an ordinary face. Honeymooners, should have heard my mother's tales When over dinner she insisted

I had words with Rudy down on the lot He couldn't help me out, it seems he forgot What my name was, he was one of my many shoulders Growing cold Nothing to cry on or rely on for a friend CHORUS They call me the runaroud, happily holding her hand The

Mason-Slamer Dear Jean, Dear Jean Can I appeal to your better nature? I'm not the boy I was a week or two ago. I lost my head halfway through your lecture, I blew a fuse but how were you to know Dear Jean You should report this bizarre behaviour Puff