I am not such a clever one about the latest fads;
I admit I was never one adored by local lads.
Not that I ever try to be saint;
I'm the type that they classify as quaint.
Quaint that they mother you, quaint that they brother you,
Must be another you, I like the other you.
I'm old fashioned, I love the moonlight,
I love the old fashioned things;
The sound of rain upon a window pane,
The starry song that April sings.
This year's fancies are passing fancies,
But sighing sighs, holding hands - these my heart understands.
I'm old fashioned, but I don't mind it;
That's how I want to be,
As long as you agree to stay old fashioned with me.