(Titles of songs recorded by Frank Sinatra)
I’VE GOT A CRUSH ON YOU
Dear Mr. Sinatra,
In the wee small hours of the morning, in the still of the night, I thought about you.
What’ll I do? I couldn’t sleep a wink last night. The song is you. Without a song I’ll never smile again. Sunday, Monday or always, day in, day out, a hundred years from today, there will never be another you.
Last night when we were young, young at heart, love walked in. It’s easy to remember. My heart stood still. Blame it on my youth. You brought a new kind of love to me. The boy next door, my funny valentine. At long last love. Love and marriage. High hopes. Yesterdays, when the world was young. They can’t take that away from me.
You will be my music. This is all I ask: come dance with me, come fly with me. Fly me to the moon. Let’s get away from it all. Close to you, I’ve got the world on a string. I’ll remember April, April in Paris, autumn in New York, New York. Remember? The good life, nice ‘n easy? The tender trap? (It was a very good year.) Witchcraft? Strangers in the night? One for my baby, the gal that got away? The end of a love affair the second time around? Learnin’ the blues when your lover has gone?
All or nothing at all? Winners? All the things you are? I could write a book.
You make me feel so young. I wish I were in love again. There are such things. Night and day, day by day, I’m getting sentimental over you. You’re sensational, too marvelous for words. Like someone in love I’ve got you under my skin. Call me irresponsible, I get a kick out of you. Ring-a-ding-ding, the lady is a tramp.
I wish you love, the best of everything, a pocket full of miracles, from here to eternity, all the way.
I’ll be seeing you,
P.S. I love you.