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| 2. |
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| 3. |
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| 4. |
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| 5. |
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Alone from night to night you'll find me
Too weak to break the chains that bind me I need no shackles to remind me I'm just a prisoner of love For one command I stand and wait now From one who's master of my fate now I can't escape it's much too late now I'm just a prisoner of love What's the good of my caring if someone is sharing those arms with me Although he has another, I can't have another for I'm not free He's in my dreams awake or sleeping Upon my knees to him I'm creeping My very soul is in his keeping I'm just a prisoner of love |
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Don't know why
There's no sun up in the sky Stormy weather Since my gal and I ain't together Keeps raining all the time Life is bare Gloom and misery everywhere Stormy weather Just can't get my poor old self together I'm weary all the time Every time So weary all of the time When she went away The blues walked in and then they met me If she stays away That old rocking chair's bound to get me All I do is pray The lord above will let me Just walk in that sun again Can't go on Everything I had is gone Stormy Weather Since my gal and I ain't together Keeps raining all the time Keeps raining all of the time |
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| 11. |
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| 12. |
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| 13. |
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| 14. |
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| 15. |
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She gets too hungry, for dinner at eight
She likes the theater, and never comes late She never bothers, with people she'd hate That's why the lady is a tramp Doesn't like crap games, with barons or earls Won't go to Harlem, in ermine and pearls Won't dish the dirt, with the rest of the girls That's why the lady is a tramp She loves the free, fresh wind in her hair Life without care She's broke, and it's oak Hates California, it's cold and it's damp That's why the lady is a tramp She gets too hungry, to wait for dinner at eight She loves the theater, but never comes late She'd never bother, with people She'd hate Thats why the Lady is a Tramp She'll have no crap games, with Sharpie's and Fraud's And she won't go to Harlem, in Lincoln's or Ford's And she won't dish the dirt, with the rest of the broads That's why the Lady is a Tramp She loves the free, fresh, wind in her hair Life without care She's broke, but it's oak Hates California, it's so cold, and so damp That's why the Lady, That's why the Lady That's why the Lady is a Tramp |
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