Whenever skies look gray to me
And trouble begins to brew,
Whenever the Winter winds become too strong,
When fortune cries "Nay! Nay!" to me
And people declare "You're through!",
Whenever the blues become my only song,
On your smile so sweet, so tender,
When at first your kiss I decline.
On the light in your eyes when I surrender,
And once again our arms intertwine;
And so, when wise men say to me
That love's young dream never comes true,
To prove that even wise men can be wrong,