It begins to tell,
round midnight, midnight.
I do pretty well till after sundown.
Suppertime, I'm feeling sad;
but it really gets bad,
round midnight.
Memories always start round midnight.
Haven't got the heart
to stand those memories,
when my heart is still with you,
and old midnight knows it, too.
When a quarrel we had needs mending,
does it mean that our love is ending?
Darling, I need you, lately I find
you're out of my heart,
and I'm out of my mind.
Let our hearts take wings
round midnight, midnight.
Let the angels sing,
for your returning,
till our love is safe and sound
and old [bad word] around.
Feeling sad,
really gets bad
round midnight...