|
Savoy, the home of sweet romance, |
|
Savoy, it wins you with a glance, |
|
Savoy, gives happy feet a chance to dance. |
|
Your old form just like a clinging vine, |
|
Your lips so warm and sweet as wine, |
|
Your cheek so soft and close to mine, divine. |
|
How my heart is singing, |
|
While the band is swinging, |
|
I'm never tired of romping, |
|
And stomping with you at the Savoy. |
|
What joy - a perfect holiday, |
|
Savoy, where we can glide and sway, |
|
Savoy, let me stomp away with you; |
|
The home of sweet romance, |
|
It wins you at a glance, |
|
Gives happy feet a chance to dance. |
|
Just like a clinging vine, |
|
So soft and sweet as wine, |
|
So soft and close to mine, divine. |
|
How my heart is singing, |
|
While the band is swinging, |
|
I'm never, never, never tired of romping, |
|
And stomping with you at the Savoy. |
|
What joy - a perfect holiday, |
|
Savoy, where we can glide and sway, |
|
Savoy, let me stomp away with you; |