When Joanna Loved Me
Matt Monro
When Joanna loved me,
every town was Paris;
And every day was Sunday,
Every month was May.
When Joanna loved me,
every sound was music;
It was music made of laughter
Laughter that was bright and gay.
But when Joanna left me,
May became December.
But even in December, I remember;
Her touch, her smile
And for a little while;
She loves me!
And once again, it's Paris:
Paris is on Sunday:
And the month is May.
And the month is May.