My Old Flame

My   old f     lame . . . I can’t even think of his name,

But it’s funny, now and then, how my thoughts go flashing back again

To my   old    flame.

My   old f     lame . . . my new lovers all seem so tame,

For I haven’t met a gent so magnificent or elegant

As my    old flame.

I’ve met so many who had fascinatin’ ways,

A fascinatin’ gaze in their eyes;

Some who took me up to the skies   ,

But their attempts at love were only imitations of

My   old f     lame . . . I can’t even think of his name,

But I’ll never be the same until I discover what became

Of my     old flame.