dean martin
the look
The look As she pass she flashed that come-hither look The look That was meant for me and for me alone The look Would be out of place in a children's book The look That could chip a piece off a heart of stone Consider a bit this interesting little tableau A look I could read but where would it lead me to But mischievous elf I labeled myself diablo And did just exactly what she was sure I'd do Now at her beck and call She ties me to the strings of her Spanish shawl That isn't all One foot out the door and she gives me the look I say goodbye now she puts her foot down I'm flying high now that's when I'm put down I want to die now she puts her foot down Freezes me with the look