Get out of town,
Before it's too late, my love;
Get out of town,
Be good to me, please
Why wish me harm?
Why not retire to a farm
And be contented to charm
The birds off the trees?
Just disappear,
I care for you much too much,
And when you are near,
Close to me, dear
We touch too much.
The thrill when we meet
Is so bitter sweet that,
Darling, It's getting me down.
So on your mark, get set,
Writer(s): Cole Porter
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