A voice that raises the hairs on your neck. Deep it is, marinated over a couple of decades in fags, booze and heaven only know what else. The blonde lady of mature years stands at the microphone with a band behind her, her face bathed in light as her voice grabs you by the throat and rattles your ears with it's harsh contralto.
Oh Marianne; I've fancied you for years. . . . .
[PS. That said, I fancied Julie London as well]
Oh Marianne; I've fancied you for years. . . . .
[PS. That said, I fancied Julie London as well]