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.