Across the alley from the Alamo.
Have I told you lately that I love you.
How are things in Glocca Morra.
I don't want to set the world on fire.
I'm beginning to see the light.
It's a grand night for singing.
June is bustin' out all over.
The last time I saw Paris.
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
Oh, what a beautiful mornin'.
People will say we're in love.
Polka dots and moonbeams.
Red roses for a blue lady.
Saturday night is the loneliest night of the week.
Shoo fly pie and apple pan dowdy.
The surrey with the fringe on top.
The things we did last summer.
When you wish upon a star.
You'd be so nice to come home to.