Writer(s): Cole Porter
Get out of town before it’s too late, my love.
Get out of town, be good to me please.
Why wish me harm? Why not retire to a farm,
And be contented to charm the birds off the trees?
Just disappear, I care for you too much,
And when you are near, close to me, dear, we touch too much.
The thrill when we meet is so bittersweet
That darling, it’s getting me down.
So on your mark, get set, get out of town.