First, Larry Hart on the perfect relationship -- between two self-admittedly imperfect people, in "Don't Tell Your Folks" from the musical Simple Simon:
Verse 1
HE
I've told your father that I'm pure as the snow,
That I would rather go to church than a show.
I have dared to tell him more than you think;
I'd be scared to tell him I take a drink.
If I were like the picture he has of me,
Good Lord, what a sap I'd be!
Refrain 1
I'm no plaster saint;
I must chew gum and nibble my nails,
I trifle some with liquor and ales,
Don't tell your folks!
I use words like "Ain't";
My father's wife inherited gout,
I let my life insurance run out,
Don't tell your folks!
Contemplating marriage,
You couldn't do worse;
In my baby carriage
I grabbed for my nurse.
I've no right to coax;
To ask your hand is really a sin,
But if you feel you've got to give in,
Don't tell your folks!
Verse 2
SHE
I've told your mother that I'm bashful and coy,
I've told your brother that you were my first boy.
I've told thirty stories, none of them true;
I tell dirty stories better than you.
If I were all the things your mother could wish,
Then I'd be a tasty dish!
Refrain 2
I'm no plaster saint;
I know I should believe in the stork,
But what's the good, I live in New York --
Don't tell your folks!
My own folks are quaint;
Their social bent is on a small scale,
My uncle spent the summer in jail,
Don't tell your folks!
I don't follow fashion,
Convention I break.
I give in to passion
And order a steak.
Please don't try to coax;
I must use tact, although you appeal,
But if I act the way that I feel,
Don't tell your folks!
Next, Yip Harburg in the big ballad from Darling of the Day (music by Jule Styne), introduced by the great Patricia Routledge. The impact of the song, "That Something Extra Special," was slightly dulled by the fact that the guy she was singing it about was played by Vincent Price.
I don't know what it is,
That magic that is his,
That something extra special
That makes life more livable.
We walk along the river,
And through his eyes I see
A million things I never knew could be.
My puddings and soufflés
To him become bouquets,
That something extra special
That he adds to ev'rything.
A room becomes a garden,
A hatrack is a tree,
And emerald leaves come falling down on me.
If in this world of fancy
A shilling should be missing,
The wealth of love and kissing
Should banish despair.
A cloud will come and go,
A cold wind surely blow,
And oh, it's good to know
Before the breeze blows sweet again
That something extra special
Will sweep the worry out;
And isn't that what love is all about?
And on love in general, the master of the colloquial lyric, Dorothy Fields, from the musical version of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn:
Love is the reason you was born,
Love was the gleam in Papa's eye.
People suddenly meet,
People suddenly fit,
People suddenly hit,
And brother, that's it!
Personally
Love is a kick right in the pants,
Love is the aspirin you buy.
If you're flappin' your fins,
If you're climbin' a wall,
There must be a reason for it all.
What is the reason for it all?
Love is the reason for it all!
Love is a night you can't recall,
Love is that extra drink you drank.
Love's a shot in the arm,
Love's a poke in the ribs,
Buyin' bottles and bibs,
And fillin' up cribs.
Obviously
Love is an old established trap,
Ten million suckers walk the plank.
If you land on your tail
Ev'ry time that you fall,
There must be a reason for it all.
Who needs a reason for it all?
Love is the reason for it all!
Love is a toothache in your heart,
Love is a gentlemanly pinch.
Love is stubbin' your toe,
Mashed potatoes with lumps,
Wearin' very tight pumps,
Or catchin' the mumps.
Generally
Love is a blow below the belt,
Love is a holdin' in a clinch.
If you shut your big mouth
When his relatives call,
There must be a reason for it all.
What is the reason for it all?
Always the teasin' in the hall;
Hallways are lovely for a call;
Call it the season,
I say love is the reason for it all.
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