The makers of Lady Ashborn's incense,
the incense that's kind to your nose,
presents The Hour of Love.
And now, once again,
we present The Hour of Love.
Ah, love.
There's the love of a dog for his master.
There's the love of a flower that smells.
There's the love that
a fellow named Orson
has for a fellow named Wells.
There's the love of a wheel for a tire.
There's the love for which everyone
yearns.
But the love that sets wo men on fire
is their lover boy.
Sugar throat burns.
Good evening, ladies.
Forget your worries.
Forget your cares.
Forget your husbands.
It's time to relax.
Sit back on your chaise and lounge.
This is Sugar Throat Burns
coming into your living room.
Into your dining room.
Into your... Oh, I beg your pardon.
And now for my first song.
Are you listening, ladies?
Thank you and good
night, Sugar Throat
But Bing, I didn't sing yet.
I know George,
I just wanted to give the folks an idea
of the kind of a program
you would do as a singer.
But I'd like to do my ditty.
Can I borrow Trotter's piano player
and do my song?
Piano player?
George, if you're going to do a solo,
let's do it right.
Let's do it big.
Say, a production,
huh? Certainly.
The rhythmers,
John Scott and the orchestra,
in fact, our complete vocal
and musical facilities
are at your disposal, sir.
Well, Bing, I wanted to sing.
It might as well be spring.
Does everybody know it? Sure.
It's not too tough for you,
is it? No, we'll...
We'll muddle through it somehow,
Sugar Throat.
Gosh, I hope Gracie's listening in.
Okay, boys, one, two.
I'm as restless as a willow.
restless as a willow in a windstorm.
He's as jumpy as
a puppet on a string.
He'd say that he had spring fever,
But it isn't even spring
I'm starry -eyed and
faintly discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing
Oh, why should he have spring fever
When it is n't even spring
from a girl he's yet to me
I'm as busy as he's as giddy
as a baby on the swing
well he hasn't seen a
crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing
But I feel so gay in a melancholy way
That it might as well be spring
It might as well be the spring
And Miss Russell says,
OK, OK, OK, all right
Well, George, that was certainly great