That certain night the night we met.   There was magic abroad in the air.                 There were angels dining at the Ritz. And a nightingale sang in Berkeley   Square.                           I may be right I may be wrong. But I’m perfectly willing to swear.          That as we kissed and said goodnight.      A nightingale sang in Berkeley    Square.           The moon that lingered over London Town.            Poor puzzled moon he wore a frown. How could he know we two were so in love.               The whole darned world seemed upside down.        The streets of town were pathed with stars.      It was such a romantic affair.            But as we kissed and said good night.      A nightingale sang in Berkeley    Square.