[LIZA]
Hmm
Hmm
Hmm
Hmm

[MEN]
We come to serenade the lovely lady we adore
She occupies the seventeenth to twenty-second floor
Our lady so seraphic
May not be very near us
And with the sound of traffic
She may not even hear us
But love is wrong without a song
So, now as heretofore
We come to serenade the lovely lady we adore

[MAN 1]
Oh, fabulous one in your ivory tower—
Your radiance I fain would see!
What Mélisande was to Pеlléas
Are you to me

[MAN 2]
Oh, fabulous one in your ivory towеr—
My heart and I, they both agree
What Juliet was to Romeo
Are you to me
[MAN 3]
What Beatrice was to Dante
What Guinevere was to Lancelot

[MAN 4]
What Brünnhilde was to Siegfried

[MAN 1]
What Pocahantas was to Captain Smith

[MAN 4]
What Martha was to Washington

[MAN 3]
What Butterfly was to Pinkerton

[MAN 2]
What Calamity Jane was to Buffalo Bill

[MAN 1]
What Carmen was to Don José
Are you to me

[MEN]
Oh, fabulous one in your ivory tower
Oh sweet! This is no potpourri!
What Mélisande was to Pelléas
Are you to me
[SUTTON]
I'm Miss Elliott's maid
Gentlemen, I'm afraid
Your loyalty we must be testing
She cannot be seen, she's resting
But she wishes to thank you all for the serenade

[MEN]
Give the lady above
Salutations and love
Advise her we leave in sweet sorrow
But that we return on the morrow
With our nightly serenade
Each night we serenade the lovely lady we adore
Who occupies the seventeenth to twenty-second floor

[Doorbell.]

[SUTTON, spoken]
Come in. 

[BOY]
A package for Miss Elliott

[SUTTON]
Put it on the table
What is it?
[BOY]
A coat of sable

[Doorbell.]

[SUTTON, spoken]
Come in. 

[MAN]
A flower for Miss Elliott
Tribute to her splendor
From His Royal Highness
The French Pretender!

[Doorbell.]

[SUTTON, spoken]
Yes?
(sung)
Good evening, Beekman

[BEEKMAN]
Good evening, Sutton
Ah, I see a touch of blue
She wears it as it's worn by few

[BEEKMAN & SUTTON]
When as in silks our Liza goes
Then, then, me thinks how sweetly flows
The liquefaction of her clothes
The liquefaction of her clothes

[BEEKMAN]
A delicate poem by Herrick
But surely heavier than a derrick
Compared to our Miss Liza
She's so glamorous
She makes all other women appear
Hammacher Schlamorous
A thousand pardons, I must quit the scene
I must be off to perfume the gasoline

[LIZA, spoken]
Good evening, Sutton. 

[SUTTON, spoken]
Good evening, Miss Elliott. 

[LIZA]
Are there any messages?

[SUTTON]
Quite a number