He May Have Hair Upon His Chest

I Ask The Lord In Heaven Above / What Is This Thing Called Love?

I Don't Know Anyone Who Sits Down To Write A Song Hit Except Irving Berlin. He Can't Help Writing Hits.

Every Time I Look Down On This Timeless Town Whether Blue Or Gray Be Her Skies. Whether Loud Be Her Cheers Or Soft Be Her Tears, More And More Do I Realize: I Love Paris In The Springtime. I Love Paris In The Fall. I Love Paris In The Winter When It Drizzles, I Love Paris In The Summer When It Sizzles. I Love Paris Every Moment, Every Moment Of The Year. I Love Paris, Why, Oh Why Do I Love Paris? Because My Love Is Near.

All The Inspiration I Ever Needed Was A Phone Call From A Producer.

Nobody Wants To Phone Me, Even Collect.