We met,—'t was in a crowd.
We met.
Gayly the troubadour
Touched his guitar.
Welcome me Home.
Why don't the men propose, Mamma?
Why don't the men propose?
Why don't the Men propose?
She wore a wreath of roses
The night that first we met.
We met,—'t was in a crowd.
We met.
Gayly the troubadour
Touched his guitar.
Welcome me Home.
Why don't the men propose, Mamma?
Why don't the men propose?
Why don't the Men propose?
She wore a wreath of roses
The night that first we met.