He he observes you from where he sits You it un-nerves you you lose your wits He he ignites you with eyes of flame You it ex-cites you you like the game. And I in my chair though I hardly speak I notice each innuen-do And I in my chair I'm stricken with fear At seeing the end so near He out to win you he woos with style You you con-tinue to coyly smile He with his quarry on hunting ground You only sorry that I'm a-round... And I in my chair though I hardly speak I see just how well he's doing And I in my chair I'm trying to hide The dread that I hold inside He his eyes flatter your glances touch You now you chatter a bit too much He like a gypsy he sere-nades You you grow tipsy your laugh cascades And I in my chair though I hardly speak My heart's on the verge of crying And I in my chair my heart under-stands My love is now changing hands No no it's nothing perhaps a little tired only Not at all why do you ask? On the contrary... This was a beautiful evening yes   indeed a beautiful evening..