A kiss is the magic a man conceived
To have his love believed.
A kiss is the sweetness a girl returned
To tell him how she yearned.
The years created no improvement,
No subversive movement left its mark on bliss.
With joy in your embrace,
Or tears upon your face,
There's nothing, nothing, quite like this.
A kiss is a treasure,
For who can measure,
The pleasure in a kiss?
Music and Lyrics copyright 1954-1979-1992-1998 by Louise Jackson Doyle