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 brillantine 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 as 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 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

Beneath your bowler brim the world's a simple song
A lovely lilt 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, stop sniveling
Don't cry on the valises
We haven't missed the train, thank the Lord
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
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 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
No we won't come home until we fall in love