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How I love the kisses of Dolores
Not Marie or Emily or Doris
Only my Dolores.
From a balcony above me
She whispers "Love me" and throws a rose
Ah but she is twice as lovely
As the rose she throws.
I would die to be with my Dolores
I was made to serenade Dolores
Chorus after chorus.
Just imagine eyes like moonrise
A voice like music
Sinatra In Hollywood 1940-1964