Until The Real Thing Comes Along - Frank Sinatra, Quincy Jones And His Orchestra

Don’t you know I’d work for you, I’d slave for you

Be a beggar or a knave for you

If that isn’t love it will have to do

Until the real thing comes along

Gladly move the earth for you

Prove my love dear, and it’s worth for you

If that isn’t love it’ll have to do

Until the real thing comes along

With all the words dear at my command

I just can’t make you understand

I’ll always love you baby — come what may

My heart is yours — what more can I say

I would cry for you, even sigh for you

Tear those stars down from the sky for you

If that isn’t love it’ll have to do

Until the real thing comes along

Walk on burning coals for you

I would drive the Chrysler, leave the Rolls for you

If that ain’t love it will have to do

Until the real thing comes along

I would try to hit high «C» for you

I’d even punch out Mr. T for you

If that ain’t love it will have to do

Until the real thing comes along

There’s not a thing that you can’t ask of me

Go on, demand any task of me

If you want the moon or a lavaliere

All you got to do is nibble on my ear

I would rob, steal, beg, borrow, and lie for you

Lay my little body down and die for you

(If that ain’t love — if that isn’t love)

If that ain’t love it will have to do

Until the real thing comes along