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Ирвинг Берлинский Ирвинг БерлинскийАмериканский композитор

Antonio 13 May 1912

1st verse:]

I can't explain-a how I feel, my heart no let me speak

Antonio, he run away and leave me last-a week

He take 'em all the money what I hide under the floor

He also take the Irish gal that live-a next a-door

He thinks that I'm an easy mark, like what you call the "Jay"

I write-a him-a letter and-a this is what I say



[chorus:]

Antonio, don't you think that you can treat me so

Because I sharp-a da stiletto till she look-a much-a new

And pretty soon the people walk-a slow behind-a you

Antonio, don't you think that you can treat me so

I'm gonna give-a you a close-a shave

So close-a that you shake-a hand-a with the grave

Antonio, better come back home



[2nd verse:]

The minute that he sees-a me, he's gonna know I sore

And then he's gonna run-a like he never run before

I wrote-a him a dozen letters in the past-a week

For ev'ry letter what I write, I'm gonna throw a brick

I lose 'em all the pity and my heart she turn to stone

And here's the last-a letter that I write-a to Antone



[2nd chorus:]

Antonio, don't you think that you can treat me so

Because I go and see the tailor and the tailor he's-a guess

Why I go there and order up the nice-a black-a dress

Antonio, don't you think that you can treat me so

I'm gonna cook for you some macaroni

You eat [kiss, kiss, kiss], goodbye, Antonio

Antonio, better come back home

Ирвинг Берлинский

Antonio 13 May 1912 / Ирвинг Берлинский

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