| When two lovers meet in Mayfair, so the legends tell,
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| Songbirds sing; |
| winter turns to spring.
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| Every winding street in Mayfair falls beneath the spell.
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| I know such enchantment can be, 'cos it happened one evening to me:
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| That certain night, the night we met,
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| There was magic abroad in the air,
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| There were angels dining at the Ritz,
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| And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
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| I may be right, I may be wrong,
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| But I’m perfectly willing to swear
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| That when you turned and smiled at me
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| A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
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| The moon that lingered over London town,
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| Poor puzzled moon, he wore a frown.
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| How could he know we two were so in love?
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| The whole darn world seemed upside down
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| The streets of town were paved with stars;
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| It was such a romantic affair.
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| And, as we kissed and said 'goodnight',
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| A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
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| When dawn came stealing up all gold and blue
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| To interrupt our rendezvous,
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| I still remember how you smiled and said,
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| «Was that a dream or was it true?»
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| Our homeward step was just as light
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| As the tap-dancing feet of Astaire
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| And, like an echo far away,
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| A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square
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| I know 'cos I was there,
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| That night in Berkeley Square |