(C.Porter) 



My story is much to sad to be told

But practically everything leaves me totally cold

The only exception I know in this case

When I'm out in a quiet spree, fighting vainly the old ennui Then I suddenly turn and see

Your fabulous face



I get no kick from champagne

Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all

So tell me why should it be true

That I get a kick out of you

Some like the bop-type refrain

I'm sure that if, I heard even one riff

That would bore me terrifically too

But I get a kick out of you



/: I get a kick every time I see

you standing there before me

I get a kick though it's clear to see,

you obviously don't adore me

I get no kick in a plane

Flying too high with some gay in the sky

Is my idea of nothing to do

Yet I get a kick out of you