Gentlemen Prefer Blondes: It's High Time

It's high time that we all went places,
High time we were gay.
It's high time that we jumped some traces,
But in a highly respectable way.
It's no time for depressed long faces,
No time to be blue.
It's high time we began to revel
And gave the devil his due.
It's no time to get low,
Let's start to let go,
Start to feel high,
Have a real high
Time.

Quite a boat, right, the Isle De France,
Finest afloat, right, the Isle De France,
All aboard and ship ahoy,
By the way, the liquor is the Real McCoy.

It's high time that we all got stinkin',
High time we were gay,
It's high time that we did some drinkin',
But in a strictly American way.
It's no time for depressed long faces,
No time to be blue.
It's high time that we jumped some traces
And gave the devil his due.
Let joy be unrefined,
Let's start to get blind,
Start to feel high,
Have a real high
Time.

It's high time you let the Isle de France
duce you all to trans-Atlantic romance.
You'll love the sanitariums,
The theaters and solariums,
The stewards and the waiters,
The roomy elevators,
The reading rooms, the writing rooms,
And other more exciting rooms,
But in particular,
You are going to love the bar!

It's high time we filled up and started to spin
On scotch, rye, corn, straight alcohol, brandy and gin.
So drink a toast to our terrific holiday
Before we sail far away,
Away from the old U.S.A.!
Hey, hey!