If you’re romantic temperamentally You must restrain it all you can If you see life too sentimentally You’ll never find your man You’ll build such terribly pedantic dreams But your romantic scheme may go awry Your thoughts are such You claim too much And love will pass you by Mary make believe Dreamed the whole day through Foolish fancies, love romances How could they come true Mary make believe Sighed a little up her sleeve Nobody claimed her They only named her Mary make believe She’s just a girl who’s always blowing mental bubbles Till she’s quite our of breath, quite out of breath She seems to have the knack of magnifying troubles Till they crush her to death, crush her to death She’s just a duffer of the ineffective kind She’s bound to suffer from her introspective mind Her indecisions quite prevent her visions coming true Imagination is a form of flagellation If a sensitive child lets it run wild It dims the firmament Till all the world is permanently blue She’s simply bound to make a bloomer Until she’s found her sense of humour If love should touch her ever She’ll never, never see it through. Nobody claimed her They only named her— Mary make believe Noel Coward, w. Orchestra Dir. Carroll Gibbons Recorded 27th April 1928