Put On Your Sunday Clothes

Out there, there's a world outside of Yonkers

Way out there beyond this hick town, Barnaby

There's a slick town, Barnaby

Out there, full of shine and full of sparkle

Close your eyes and see it glisten, Barnaby

Listen, Barnaby

Put on your Sunday clothes, there's lots of world out there

Get out the brilliantine and dime cigars

We're gonna find adventure in the evening air

Girls in white in a perfumed night

Where the lights are bright as the stars

Put on your Sunday clothes, we're gonna ride through town

In one of those new horse-drawn open cars

We'll see the shows at Delmonico's

And we'll close the town in a whirl

And we won't come home until we've kissed a girl

Put on your Sunday clothes when you feel down and out

Strut down the street and have your picture took

Dressed like a dream, your spirits seem to turn about

That Sunday shine is a certain sign that you feel as fine as you look

Beneath your parasol, the world is all a smile

That makes you feel brand new down to your toes

Get out your feathers, your patent leathers

Your beads and buckles and bows

For there's no blue Monday in your Sunday

No Monday in your Sunday

No Monday in your Sunday clothes

Put on your Sunday clothes when you feel down and out

Strut down the street and have your picture took

Dressed like a dream, your spirits seem to turn about

That Sunday shine is a certain sign that you feel as fine as you look

Beneath your parasol, the world is all a smile

That makes you feel brand new down to your toes

Get out your feathers, your patent leathers

Your beads and buckles and bows

For there's no blue Monday in your Sunday clothes

Put on your Sunday clothes when you feel down and out

Strut down the street and have your picture took

Dressed like a dream, your spirits seem to turn about

That Sunday shine is a certain sign that you feel as fine as you look

Beneath your bowler brim, the world's a simple song

A lovely love that makes you tilt your nose

Get out your slickers, your flannel knickers

Your red suspenders and hose

For there's no blue Monday in your Sunday clothes

Ermengarde, keep smiling, no man wants a little ninny

Ambrose, do a turn, let me see

Mister Hackle, Mister Tucker, don't forget Irene and Minnie

Just forget you ever heard a word from me

All aboard, all aboard

All aboard, all aboard

All aboard

All aboard, all aboard, all aboard, all aboard

Put on your Sunday clothes, there's lots of world out there

Put on your silk cravat and patent shoes

We're gonna find adventure in the evening air

To town we'll trot, to a smoky spot

Where the girls are hot as a fuse

Put on your silk high hat and at the turned up cuff

We'll wear a hand-made gray suede buttoned glove

You wanna take New York by storm

We'll join the Astors and Tony Pastor's

And this I'm positive of

That we won't come home

No, we won't come home

No, we won't come home until we fall in love