Come On, Baby! – Michel Montecrossa

Come on, Baby, come on!
Come on, Baby, come on!
She nodded, wasn’t strange.
Sounded sleepy and traveled into my ears.

Come on, Baby, come on!
Come on, Baby, come on!
Birds are singin’ and dreamin’ of you.
“I want to eat with you a Russian Borscht.”

Come on, Baby, come on!
Come on, Baby, come on!
I want to tell you, you‘re looking like a novel.
Are you asleep already? I’ll call you back later!

She showed her good figure, struck a pose.
She didn’t have the marks of too many men, you know.
I was taking the bus and someone got on.
Wasn’t more than fourteen or fifteen.

He gave her a shot and ripped her necklace.
Nobody made him stop, so I pushed him off the bus.
Her breasts weren’t bad. Fitted nicely.
Her legs were slim, she adored herself.

Come on, Baby, come on!
Come on, Baby, come on!
I dated her this night. It was Christmas
and we felt alright.
She dropped out at sixteen, had black hair
and a moon-white skin and a glare.
She dropped out at sixteen, had black hair
and a moon-white skin when I turned to her.