1920s-1930s songs

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Can you name the 1920s songs by opening lyrics?

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LyricsTitle
Come, lets mix where rockefellers Walk with sticks or umberellas In their mitts
Things have come to a pretty pass, Our romance is growing flat, For you like this and the other While I go for this and that.
We played the most wonderful game, Maureen disappeared And came back in a beard And we all had to guess at her name!
As you listen to the band don't you get a bubble? As you listen to them play don't you get a glow?
Zoom - zoom, zoom - zoom, The world is in a mess. With politics and taxes And people grinding axes, There's no happiness
All you preachers Who delight in panning the dancing teachers, Let me tell you there are a lot of features Of the dance that carry you through The gates of Hea-ven.
We may never, never meet again On that bumpy road to love Still I'll always, Always keep the memory of:
When a mess you're making! The neighbours want to know Why I'm always shaking Just like a flivver
No night Iife for you; The birds would bore you; The cows won't know you; A horse would throw you
It was written by a Latin, a gondolier who sat in His home out in Brooklyn and gazed at the stars. He sent his melody across the sea to Italy, And we know they wrote some words to
I'm up among the stars; On earthly things I frown I'm throwing off the bars That held me down.
Old man trouble, I don't mind him -- You won't find him 'Round my door I got starlight, I got sweet dreams, I got my man --
They all said we never could be happy They laughed at us and how! But ho, ho, ho! Who's got the last laugh now?
The profession is overcrowded And the struggle's pretty tough And admitting the fact She's burning to act, That isn't quite enough.
I've been a roaming romeo My juliets have been many But now my roaming days have gone Too many irons in the fire Is worse than not having any I've had my share and from now on:
I just got an invitation through the mails: 'Your presence requested this evening, it's formal
She said 'I hate to be pedantic but I'm driven nearly frantic When I see that unromantic, sycophantic lot of sluts Forever wriggling their guts. It drives me absolutely nuts.'
Drop that long face! C'mon have your fling Why keep nursing the blues?

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Created Dec 17, 2011ReportNominate
Tags:song, 1920