Ours
Composer(s): Cole Porter
Performer(s): Lena Horne
and multiple other artists
The high gods above
Look down and laugh at our love
And say to themselves
"How tawdry it's grown!"
They've seen our cars
In front of so many bars
When we should have been under the stars
Together but alone!
Ours is the chance
To make romance
Our own!
Ours, the white Riviera under the moon
Ours, a gondola gliding on a lagoon
Ours, a temple serene by the green Arabian Sea
Or maybe you'd rather be going out, buying gay Paree!
Ours, the silent sierras greeting the dawn
Or a sun-spotted Devonshire lawn
Dotted with flowers
Mine the inclination
Yours the inspiration
Why don't we take a vacation
And make it all ours?
Ours, the glitter of Broadway, Saturday night
Ours, a box at the Garden watching a fight
Ours, the mad, the brouhaha at the Plaza's Persian Room
Or, if this fills you with gloom
We can go and admire Grant's Tomb!
Ours, a home on the river facing the east
Or in one of Park Avenue's least
Frightening towers
Oh, this champion chattin'
Sounds to me like Latin!
Why don't we stay in Manhattan
And make it all
Why don't we stay in Manhattan
And make it all ours?
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