GIGI: THE SONGS, Page 3

Gigi
Gaston: She's a babe! Just a babe!
Still cavorting in her crib;
Eating breakfast with a bib!
With her baby teeth and all her baby curls.
She's a tot! Just a tot!
Good for bouncing on your knee.
I am positive that she
Doesn't even know that boys aren't girls.
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Of course that weekend in Trouville
In spite of all her youthful zeal.
She was exceedingly polite,
And on the whole a sheer delight.
And if it wasn't joy galore,
At least not once was she a bore
That I recall.
No, not at all.
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She's a child! A silly child!
Adolescent to her toes,
And Good heaven hw it shows.
Sticky thumbs are all the finders she has got.
She's a child! A clumsy child!
She's as swollen as a grape,
And she doesn't have a shape.
Where the figure ought to be it is not.
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Of course I must in truth confess
That is that brand new little dress
She looked surprisingly mature
And had a definite allure.
It was a shock, in fact, to me,
A most amazing shock to see
The way it clung
On one so young.

She's a girl! A little girl!
Getting older, it is true,
Which is what they always do;
Till that unexpected hour
When they blossom like a flow'r ...
Oh, no ... ! Oh, no ... !

But ...
There's sweeter music when she speaks,
Isn't there? A diff'rent bloom about her cheeks,
Isn't there?
Could I be wrong? Could it be so?
Oh where, oh where did Gigi go?

Gigi, Am I a fool without a mind
Or have I merely been too blind to realize
Oh Gigi
Why you've been growing up before my very     eyes
Gigi
You're not at all that funny awkward little girl I     knew
Oh no!
Overnight there's been a breathless change in you
Oh Gigi
While you were trembling on the brink
Oh Gigi
Have I been standing up too close
Or back too far
When did your sparkle turn to fire
And your warmth become desire
Oh what miracle has made you the way you are?

 

I'm Glad I'm Not Young Anymore:
Honoré: Poor boy! Poor boy! Down-hearted and depressed and in a spin.
Poor boy! Poor boy! Oh, youth can really do a fellow in!

How lovely to sit here in the shade, with none of the woes of man and maid.
I'm glad I'm not young anymore.
The rivals that don't exist at all, the feeling you're only two feet tall
I'm glad that I'm not young anymore
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No more frustration, no star-crossed lover am I.
No aggravation, just one reluctant reply, "Lady, goodbye!"
The Fountain of Youth is dull as paint. Methuselah is my patron saint.
I've never been so comfortable before.
Oh, I'm so glad that I'm not young anymore.

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