The way you wore your hat 
all attitude and angle— 
we’d swarm and swoon 
when you’d croon,
Ol’ Blue Eyes,
you make me feel so young.

Big band sounds of Tommy Dorsey, 
trumpets blaring, hot drums, solo sax 
and your mellow voice,
syncopated, up beat, down beat.

Couples swing, skirts flare,
feet to the beat, half-time, double-time, 
dance floors at the Palladium,
Earl Carroll’s, USO Sundays
in Hollywood or Beverly Hills.

You and Ava Gardner walking
just ahead arm in arm up Beverly Drive— 
luck be a lady tonight and now
even though I’m old and gray,
you make me feel so young.

Dancing round the kitchen table, 
living room chairs, I swing and sway, 
turn and twist, fingers snapping
in time to your timeless tune—
you make me feel so young.