Ernie Cordell's blog: "Who gives a Rat Packer?"

In the wee small hours of the morning,
While the whole wide world is fast asleep,
You lie awake and think about the girl,
And never ever think of counting sheep.

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson
You'd be hers if only she would call.
In the wee small hours of the morning,
That's the time you miss her most of all