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
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 Put on your Sunday clothes
 There's lots of world out there
 Get out the brilliantine and dime cigar
 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
 But 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
 Just 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
 It 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
 Just 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
 It 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
 
 Ermengarde, stop sniveling
 Don't cry on the valises
 Ambrose, let me hear that tiny chord (ah)
 Lovely, you're improving
 Now get all eleven pieces
 We're seven minutes late!
 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
 For I can feel 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 high silk hat
 And at the turned-up cuff
 We'll wear a handmade grey suede buttoned glove
 We'll join the Astors at Tony Pastor's
 And this I'm positive of
 That we won't come home
 That we won't come home
 That we won't come home until we fall in love