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~What is this thing called love. . .
His voice wraps you in velvet sheets.
Two lovers meet at dusk in the Sicilian streets.
The newness and excitement of the old familiarity-
Like blossoms budding on an ever alive spring tree.
Settles in, romantic and comfortable, with unabridged ease-
Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me…
Sway softly in your mate’s arms and sip that sweet red wine-
While the pot of sauce boils over with scents of garlic and thyme.
As many that came before you have, let his music lead the way to romance-
No matter what you’re doing, his serenade commands a dance.
Surroundings seem all the more vibrant, with each fine croon and trumpet note-
Rock hearts soften gladly, flat feet begin to float.
Smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it’s breaking…
Each phrase conveys a message, each our own for the taking.
Wisdom in his words, soul in his heart, and a smile in his “old blue eyes”-
Each time the record plays, seems he’s got a new surprise.
Endearing laughter mixed into timeless melodies, again-
He’s a master of the lyrics… an idol of musical men.
Come fly with me, around the town-
Whether in boots ‘n jeans or in satin gown
Red brick walls in cigar smoke-filled rooms
The cello strings and trombone booms
As music filled with his magic, turn lovers into brides and grooms.
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