It’s quarter to three.
There’s no one in the place except you and me.
So set ’em up, Joe. I’ve got a little story you ought to know.
We’re drinking, my friend, to the end of a brief episode.
Make it one for my baby and one more for the road.
I got the routine, so drop another nickel in the machine.
I’m feeling so bad; I wish you’d make the music dreamy and sad.
Could tell you a lot, but you’ve got to be true to your code.
Make it one for my baby and one more for the road.

You’d never know it, but, buddy
I’m a kind of poet and I’ve got a lotta things to say.
And when I’m gloomy
You simply gotta listen to me until it’s talked away.
Well, that’s how it goes.
And, Joe, I know you’re getting anxious to close.
So thanks for the cheer.
I hope you didn’t mind my bending your ear.
This torch that I’ve found must be drowned
Or it soon might explode.
Make it one for my baby and one more for the road.

Coda: That long, long road.