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I'LL NEVER BE LONELY AGAIN
I went for a walk last evening
Lonely as lonely could be
And near an old familiar spot
I stumbled on a memory
At first I stood there in amazement
Not knowing what the next move would be
Wondering if the one I was remembering
By chance would be remembering me
For years have come and years have gone
And ours was a sad affair
But after all, who can tell
Maybe my old love still cares
So gently I picked up my memory
And tucked it away in my heart
Now I will never be lonely again
When I go for my evening walk
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO
One hundred years ago, along St. Louis Bay
Our fore fathers, used to hunt and fish and play
Times haven' changed, too much for in away
We do the very, same thing to-day
One thing that will never change, it's love and romance
With life's expectancy, our youth has a chance
One hundred years from now, well who can say
They may celebrate along St. Louis Bay.
This song was composed for the Centennial of
Bay St. Louis 1958
TO ALL DADS ON FATHER'S DAY
If all the men, in this creation
The swellest guy, in my estimation
I hope someday you'll meet him
I'm sure you will be glad
To become acquainted, with my dear Dad
When things go wrong, and you are sort of blue
He's the very guy that will always stand by you
So through thick and thin admit you've never had
A better pal, than your old dad.
LAZY MISSISSIPPI MOON
Lazy Mississippi Moon, harvest time the time to spoon While you're strolling with your love beneath An Indian Summer Moon
Fireflies swing their lanterns bright, as they Hitter Through the night
But there isn't any light, in lover's land and you're the blame.
Lazy Mississippi Moon, there will be a wedding soon
In the rustic little chapel down the lane
Won't you show your silver light
For my love and me that night
We're depending on you lazy Mississippi Moon.
RENDEZVOUS
I had a rendezvous with a memory last eve at twilight The moon, and the stars were there.
Romance filled the air, but where were you dear?
The ghost of the use to be seem'd to speak to me,
Of the love we knew dear
But sweetheart it seems to me, there is nothing left but a memory


Backman, Marguerite Thru-the-Garden-Gate-page-3
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