"Bus Stop" By: G. Gouldman (1966)
Bus stop, wet day, she's there, I sayplease share my umbrella.
Bus stop, bus goes, she stays, love grows
under my umbrella.
All that summer we enjoyed it,
wind and rain and shine.
That umbrella, we employed it.
By August, she was mine.
Every morning, I would see her waiting at the stop.
Sometimes, she'd shop
and she would show me what she bought.
All the people stared as if we were both quite insane.
Someday, my name and hers are going to be the same.
That's the way the whole thing started.
Silly, but it's true.
Thinking of a sweet romance beginning in a queue.
Came the sun the ice was melting,
no more sheltering now.
Nice to think that that umbrella
led me to a vow.