More boat
More trees
I thought you were drawing me. George? Hello, George? There is someone in this dress!
A trickle of sweat
The back of the head
He always does this
Now the foot is dead
Sunday in the park with George
One more Su-
The collar is damp
Beginning to pinch
The bustle's slipping
I won't budge one inch
Who was at the zoo, George?
Who was at the zoo?
The monkeys and who, George?
The monkeys and who?
Don't move!
Artists are bizarre- fixed, cold
That's you, George, you're bizarre- fixed, cold
I like that in a man- fixed, cold
God, it's hot out here
Well, there are worse things
Than staring at the water on a Sunday
There are worse things
Than staring at the water
As you're posing for a picture
Being painted by your lover
In the middle of the summer
On an island in the river on a Sunday
The petticoat's wet
Which adds to the weight
The sun is blinding
All right, concentrate
Eyes open, please
Sunday in the park with George
Look out at the water
Not at me
Sunday in the park with George
Concentrate, concentrate
Well, if you went bread
And respect and attention
Not to say connection
Modelling's no profession
If you want, instead
When you're dead
Some more public
And more permanent
Expression
Of affection
You want a painter
Poet
Sculptor, preferably
Marble, granite, bronze
Durable
Something nice with swans
That's durable
Forever
All it has to be is good
And George, you're good
You're really good
George's stroke is tender
George's touch is pure
Your eyes, George
I love your eyes, George
I love your beard, George
I love your size, George
But most, George
Of all
But most of all
I love your painting
I think I'm fainting
The tip of a stay
Right under the tit
No don't give in, just
Lift the arm a bit
Don't lift the arm
Sunday in the park with George
Bustle high, please
Not even a nod
As if I were trees
The ground could open
He would still say "please"
Never know with you, George
Who could know with you?
The others I knew, George
Before we get through
I'll get to you, too
God, I am so hot!
Well, there are worse things
Than staring at the water on a Sunday
There are worse things
Than staring at the water
As you're posing for a picture
After sleeping on the ferry
After getting up at seven
To came over to an island
In the middle of a river
Half an hour from the city
On a Sunday
On a Sunday in the park with
Don't move the mouth
George
Annaleigh Ashford - Sunday in the Park With George Lyrics
Annaleigh Ashford - Sunday in the Park With George Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
More boat
More trees
I thought you were drawing me. George? Hello, George? There is someone in this dress!
A trickle of sweat
The back of the head
He always does this
Now the foot is dead
Sunday in the park with George
One more Su-
The collar is damp
Beginning to pinch
The bustle's slipping
I won't budge one inch
Who was at the zoo, George?
Who was at the zoo?
The monkeys and who, George?
The monkeys and who?
Don't move!
Artists are bizarre- fixed, cold
That's you, George, you're bizarre- fixed, cold
I like that in a man- fixed, cold
God, it's hot out here
Well, there are worse things
Than staring at the water on a Sunday
There are worse things
Than staring at the water
As you're posing for a picture
Being painted by your lover
In the middle of the summer
On an island in the river on a Sunday
The petticoat's wet
Which adds to the weight
The sun is blinding
All right, concentrate
Eyes open, please
Sunday in the park with George
Look out at the water
Not at me
Sunday in the park with George
Concentrate, concentrate
Well, if you went bread
And respect and attention
Not to say connection
Modelling's no profession
If you want, instead
When you're dead
Some more public
And more permanent
Expression
Of affection
You want a painter
Poet
Sculptor, preferably
Marble, granite, bronze
Durable
Something nice with swans
That's durable
Forever
All it has to be is good
And George, you're good
You're really good
George's stroke is tender
George's touch is pure
Your eyes, George
I love your eyes, George
I love your beard, George
I love your size, George
But most, George
Of all
But most of all
I love your painting
I think I'm fainting
The tip of a stay
Right under the tit
No don't give in, just
Lift the arm a bit
Don't lift the arm
Sunday in the park with George
Bustle high, please
Not even a nod
As if I were trees
The ground could open
He would still say "please"
Never know with you, George
Who could know with you?
The others I knew, George
Before we get through
I'll get to you, too
God, I am so hot!
Well, there are worse things
Than staring at the water on a Sunday
There are worse things
Than staring at the water
As you're posing for a picture
After sleeping on the ferry
After getting up at seven
To came over to an island
In the middle of a river
Half an hour from the city
On a Sunday
On a Sunday in the park with
Don't move the mouth
George
More trees
I thought you were drawing me. George? Hello, George? There is someone in this dress!
A trickle of sweat
The back of the head
He always does this
Now the foot is dead
Sunday in the park with George
One more Su-
The collar is damp
Beginning to pinch
The bustle's slipping
I won't budge one inch
Who was at the zoo, George?
Who was at the zoo?
The monkeys and who, George?
The monkeys and who?
Don't move!
Artists are bizarre- fixed, cold
That's you, George, you're bizarre- fixed, cold
I like that in a man- fixed, cold
God, it's hot out here
Well, there are worse things
Than staring at the water on a Sunday
There are worse things
Than staring at the water
As you're posing for a picture
Being painted by your lover
In the middle of the summer
On an island in the river on a Sunday
The petticoat's wet
Which adds to the weight
The sun is blinding
All right, concentrate
Eyes open, please
Sunday in the park with George
Look out at the water
Not at me
Sunday in the park with George
Concentrate, concentrate
Well, if you went bread
And respect and attention
Not to say connection
Modelling's no profession
If you want, instead
When you're dead
Some more public
And more permanent
Expression
Of affection
You want a painter
Poet
Sculptor, preferably
Marble, granite, bronze
Durable
Something nice with swans
That's durable
Forever
All it has to be is good
And George, you're good
You're really good
George's stroke is tender
George's touch is pure
Your eyes, George
I love your eyes, George
I love your beard, George
I love your size, George
But most, George
Of all
But most of all
I love your painting
I think I'm fainting
The tip of a stay
Right under the tit
No don't give in, just
Lift the arm a bit
Don't lift the arm
Sunday in the park with George
Bustle high, please
Not even a nod
As if I were trees
The ground could open
He would still say "please"
Never know with you, George
Who could know with you?
The others I knew, George
Before we get through
I'll get to you, too
God, I am so hot!
Well, there are worse things
Than staring at the water on a Sunday
There are worse things
Than staring at the water
As you're posing for a picture
After sleeping on the ferry
After getting up at seven
To came over to an island
In the middle of a river
Half an hour from the city
On a Sunday
On a Sunday in the park with
Don't move the mouth
George
Writer: Stephen Sondheim
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.