Disc 1 | ||||||
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1. |
| 2:34 | ||||
2. |
| 2:39 | ||||
3. |
| 3:19 | ||||
4. |
| 2:35 | ||||
5. |
| 3:12 | ||||
6. |
| 2:15 | ||||
7. |
| 3:19 | ||||
8. |
| 5:27 | ||||
9. |
| 2:25 | ||||
10. |
| 3:10 | ||||
Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam
Where the deer and the antelope play Where seldom is heard a discouraging word And the skies are not cloudy all day Home, home on the range Where the deer and the antelope play Where seldom is heard a discouraging word And the skies are not cloudy all day How often at night where the heavens are bright With the light of the glittering stars Have I stood there amazed and asked as I gazed If their glory exceeds that of ours Home, home on the range Where the deer and the antelope play Where seldom is heard a discouraging word And the skies are not cloudy all day Then give me a land where the bright diamond sand Flows leisurely down to the stream Where the graceful white swan goes gliding along Like a maid in a heavenly dream Oh I would not exchange my old home on the range Where the deer and the antelope play Where the seldom is heard a discouraging word And the skies are not cloudy all day |
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11. |
| 2:46 | ||||
12. |
| 2:54 | ||||
Look out!
You ready for this? Who's that comin' down the thoroughfare The sunshine flashin' on his ring Bowin' left and right and here and there That's Chester, the trombone king He gets his shirts straight from Paris Cigarettes from the Nile He tallks like a 'eyebrow', but he plays Chicago style He gets his shoes made in London And they're real crocodile But he plays trombone...Chicago style And he sometimes plays sweet Hup-toodle-oodle-oodle-dee-ooo But sweet or hot, he's always got That real gut-bucket beat He's got a neat Latin moustache And the girls love his smile But he plays trombone...Chicago style A trombone made in Newark Played in Chicago style Chicago style Chicago style He gets his neckties from Naples And his socks from Argyle Speaks Oxford English, but he plays Chicago style Wears a stickpin from Rio, are you listenin' You can see it for a mile But he plays trombone...Chicago style And he sometimes plays sweet Uncle Jake's weary blues But sweet or hot, he's always got That real gut-bucket beat He likes New York for the Opera And gets two on the aisle But he plays trombone...Chicago style A trombone made in Newark Played in Chicago style Yes sir Hey-hey A trombone played Chicago style |
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13. |
| 2:34 | ||||
14. |
| 2:40 | ||||
15. |
| 2:27 | ||||
I don't care where I'm going
Just as long as I'm with you Put it there, pal. Put it there I'll be just like your horses And I'll stick to you like glue Put it there, pal. Put it there I'm glad you're fooling Pepsodent (oh, that happy snow) Stealing all that cash I hear your show on Thursdays (nice, huh?) What a lot of eggs you smash Well at least I don't depend upon Cologne's big moustache (oh, he gave me the brush) You're faithful and you're fair Put it there (skin me Dad, skin me) You've got that something in your voice So right for selling cheese (hustle a lot of the stuff) Put it there, pal. Put it there (put that back in the bowl) You know, I think your jokes are great (really?) It's just that folks are hard to please (they're just snobs, that all) Put it there, pal. Put it there Your face could make a fortune Just your nose should make a lot (how do you siphon?) I like the way you wear those gaudy-colored shirts you've got, boy The only time a rainbow ever covered up a pot You're such a perfect square (oh-oh, is that on the paper?) (Where? Where?) Shall we dance Sorry, I have my heavy underwear on Oh, just to once around, to the adrenalin, huh Well, OK, if I lead My colleague, my crony, my cohort, my friend Companions, confederates, chums to the end Like meat and potatoes, or salt and tomatoes Boy, what a blend Don't put it in the paper (don't worry about me) Don't put it on the air (I'll finish it) Don't put it in your pipe Put it there Confidentially, do you like this as well as singing Leave your name with the girl when you go out We may get to you for some crowd noises Be sure and call me All right |
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16. |
| 2:43 | ||||
Just picture a penthouse way up in the sky
With hinges on chimneys for stars to go by A sweet slice of Heaven for just you and I When we're alone. From all of society we'll stay aloof And live in propriety there on the roof. Two heavenly hermits we will be in truth When we're alone. We'll see life's mad pattern As we view old Manhattan Then we can thank our lucky stars That we're living as we are. In our little penthouse we'll always contrive To keep love and romance forever alive In view of the Hudson just over the drive, When we're alone. We can thank our lucky stars That we're living as we are. In our little penthouse we'll always contrive To keep love and romance forever alive In view of the Hudson just over the drive, When we're alone. |
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17. |
| 3:12 | ||||
18. |
| 3:04 | ||||
East is east and west is west
And the wrong one I have chose Let's go where they keep on wearin' Those frills and flowers and buttons and bows Rings and things and buttons and bows. Don't bury me in this prairie Take me where the cement grows Let's move down to some big town Where they love a gal by the cut o' her clothes And you'll stand out, in buttons and bows. I'll love you in buckskin Or skirts that you've homespun But I'll love ya' longer, stronger Where yer friends don't tote a gun My bones denounce the buckboard bounce And the cactus hurts my toes Let's vamoose where gals keep a-usin' Those silks and satins and linen that shows And I'm all yours in buttons and bows. Gimme eastern trimmin' where women are women In high silk hose and peek-a-boo clothes And French perfume that rocks the room And I'm all yours in buttons and bows. Buttons and bows, buttons and bows |
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19. |
| 2:41 | ||||
20. |
| 3:05 | ||||
Here we are, out of cigarettes,
Holding hands and yawning; look how late it gets, Two sleepy people, by dawn's early light, Too much in love to say good-night. Say, here we are, in this cozy chair, Picking on a wishbone from the Frigidaire, Two sleepy people, with nothing to say, Much to much in love to break away. Do you the remember the nights we used to linger in the hall? Papa didn't like you at all, But I was crazy 'bout you, baby! Do you remember the reason why we married in the Fall? To rent this little nest, and get a bit of rest! Well, here we are, just about the same, Gawky little fellow, dizzy little dame, Two sleepy people, by dawn's early light, Much to much in love to say good-night. Good-night! |
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21. |
| 2:54 | ||||