CONEY ISLAND 
Al Jolson


Every summer we go down to Deauville by the sea
Where one can rub his shoulders with a king
St. Moritz in wintertime, ah that’s the place to be
And then to Paris in the spring
Where one can have his little fling

Though Normandy is lovely in November
Somehow it leaves you nothing to remember

^I can’t forget the night I met you down at Coney…Island
Gee, I was proud you picked me from the crowd at Coney…Island
And very soon I proved to you that my intentions weren’t phoney
It ended in ma…tri...mo...ny
And now we’re eating caviar instead of macaroni
But I recall those picnic lunches a baloney with a smile
I guess I’m still a hick
‘Cause I still get a kick
Just loving you while scrumming through the crowd
At Coney Isle