Introd: How I love the kisses of Dolores, Ay, ay, ay, Dolores; Not Marie or Emily or Doris Only my Dolores. From a balcony above me, She whispers, "Love me," and throws a rose. Ah, but she is twice as lovely as the rose she throws. I would die to be with my Dolores, Ay, ay, ay, Dolores; I was made to serenade Dolores, Chorus after Chorus. Just imagine eyes like moonrise, A voice like music, and lips like wine. What a break if I could make Dolores mine all mine. Gravada também por Tommy Dorsey
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Top songs from Frank Sinatra
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