Marion Hutton:
Each night at eight, under her window he'd wait
He would look up and shout:

Tex Beneke:
"Ain't cha comin' out, my pretty, pretty Mammo
Ain't cha comin' out tonight?"

Marion Hutton:
He never played music for his serenade,
He'd just look up and shout:

Tex Beneke:
"Ain't cha comin' out, my pretty, pretty, pretty Mammo
Ain't cha comin' out tonight?"

Marion Hutton:
He couldn't strum a guitar, a banjo or mandolin
He couldn't sing tra-la-la,
He couldn't whistle or hum,
He'd just come there and shout:
"Ain't cha comin' out?
Ain't cha comin' out?
Ain't cha comin' out?
Ain't cha comin' out?"