Put on Your Sunday Clothes

Out there
There's a world
Outside of Yonkers
Way out there beyond this hick town, Barnaby
There's a slick town, Barnaby

Out there
Full of shine and full of sparkle
Close your eyes and see it glisten, Barnaby
Listen, Barnaby

Put on your Sunday clothes
There's lots of world out there
Get out the brilliantine and dime cigar
We're gonna find adventure in the evening air
Girls in white in a perfumed night
Where the lights are bright as the stars

Put on your Sunday clothes
We're gonna ride through town
In one of those new horse-drawn open cars
We'll see the shows at Delmonico's
And we'll close the town in a whirl
But we won't come home until we've kissed a girl

Put on your Sunday clothes
When you feel down and out
Strut down the street and have your picture took
Just like a dream your spirits seem to turn about

That Sunday shine is a certain sign
That you feel as fine as you look

Beneath your parasol the world is all a-smile
It makes you feel brand new down to your toes
Get out your feathers, your patent leathers
Your beads and buckles and bows
For there's no blue Monday in your Sunday clothes

Put on your Sunday clothes
When you feel down and out
Strut down the street and have your picture took
Just like a dream your spirits seem to turn about
That Sunday shine is a certain sign
That you feel as fine as you look

Beneath your parasol the world is all a-smile
It makes you feel brand new down to your toes
Get out your feathers, your patent leathers
Your beads and buckles and bows
For there's no blue Monday in your Sunday clothes

Ermengarde, stop sniveling
Don't cry on the valises
Ambrose, let me hear that tiny chord (ah)
Lovely, you're improving
Now get all eleven pieces
We're seven minutes late!
All aboard!
(All aboard, all aboard, all aboard)

Put on your Sunday clothes
There's lots of world out there
Put on your silk cravat and patent shoes
For I can feel adventure in the evening air
To town we'll trot
To a smoky spot
Where the girls are hot as a fuse

Put on your high silk hat
And at the turned-up cuff
We'll wear a handmade grey suede buttoned glove
We'll join the Astors at Tony Pastor's
And this I'm positive of
That we won't come home
That we won't come home
That we won't come home until we fall in love



Credits
Writer(s): Jerry Herman
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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