I Don't Need Words. It's

You Blows Who You Is.

Every Time I Close My Eyes Blowing That Trumpet Of Mine, I Look Right Into The Heart Of Good Old New Orleans. It Has Given Me Something To Live For.

Some Of You Young Folks Been Saying To Me, "hey Pops, What You Mean 'what A Wonderful World'? How About All Them Wars All Over The Place? You Call Them Wonderful? And How About Hunger And Pollution? That Aint So Wonderful Either." Well How About Listening To Old Pops For A Minute. Seems To Me, It Aint The World That's So Bad But What We're Doin' To It. And All I'm Saying Is, See, What A Wonderful World It Would Be If Only We'd Give It A Chance. Love Baby, Love. That's The Secret, Yeah. If Lots More Of Us Loved Each Other, We'd Solve Lots More Problems. And Then This World Would Be A Gasser.

Making Money Ain't Nothing Exciting To Me. You Might Be Able To Buy A Little Better Booze Than The Wino On The Corner. But You Get Sick Just Like The Next Cat And When You Die You're Just As Graveyard Dead As He Is.

When I Go To The Gate, I'll Play A Duet With Gabriel. Yeah, We'll Play 'sleepy Time Down South' And 'hello, Dolly!.' Then He Can Blow A Couple That He's Been Playing Up There All The Time.