She: I love your eyes,
But I wouldn't know the color.
Aquamarine
Or em'rald green?
And if your hair
Couldn't possibly be duller,
The shade I see
Looks gold to me.
That's how naive I've grown to be.
Mais oui.

It's got to be love!
It couldn't be tonsillitis;
It feels like neuritis,
But nevertheless it's love.
Don't tell me the pickles and pie a la mode
They served me
Unnerved me
And made my heart a broken-down pump.
It's got to be love!
It isn't the morning after
That makes every rafter
Go spinning around above.
I'm sure that it's fatal, or why do I get
That sinking feeling?
I think that I'm dead,
But nevertheless it's only love.

He: it's got to be love!
It could have been fallen arches
Or too many starches,
But nevertheless it's love.
Don't tell me the lamp in the barbershop
Gave me sunstroke.
With one stroke
You made me feel like yesterday's hash.
It's got to be love!
It couldn't be indigestion.
Beyond any question
I'm fluttery as a dove.
I've heard people say it's no worse than a cold,
But, oh, that fever!
I'm burned to a crisp,
But nevertheless it's only love.