Oscar E Moore

Go-o-o-ollee!  It’s been said that “laughter is the best medicine” – that is, second only to corn whiskey.  So perhaps it is, in such a lackluster theatrical season we get SHUCKED.  An attempt at the combination of both.

Billed as a new musical it couldn’t be further from the truth.  We have been here before.  Many times over.  This type of musical comedy has seen better days.  For example Head Over Heels and Romeo and Bernadette.  I laughed my head off silly with both.  Shucked on the other hand, for whatever reasons, failed to tickle my funny bones.

It’s a pleasant stroll down memory lane as to what was funny, what still is and what is not.  Go figure!

Songs (Brandy Clark & Shane McAnally) written in a country-western Nashville style with Hee-Haw humor chuckling at itself until the cows come home as a lone rooster is spared its life.  Corn on the cob one liners in rapid fire succession.  Gags!  Gags!  Gags!  Groan inducing and uncensored.  And often quite funny.  Inwardly I kept expecting at the punch line of the many jokes – Ba Da Boom!  Outwardly I heard the audience roaring with laughter.  Go figure.

The barn set (Scott Pask) looking like it has a hangover, ready to keel over at any minute is just fine and serviceable along with the tattered costumes by Tilly Grimes giving us an easy, comfortable feeling as the two storytellers Grey Henson and Ashley D. Kelley narrate the goings on.  Warming up the audience in confiding tones and enjoying their own jokes immensely.

Problem is the money making corn crop is dying.  Interfering with the marriage plans of Beau (Andrew Durand) and Maizy (Caroline Innerbichler) – both excellent in character and voice.

Beau has an Act I showstopper “Somebody Will” which is followed by Lulu (Maizy’s best friend/cousin) the real star of Shucked – Alex Newell, a zaftig distiller of her own whiskey with a tart tongue, a self-satisfied libido and a heart of gold who brings down the house with “Independently Owned”.  She knocked me for a loop with attitude to spare.  But I digress.

Maizy is dumb in the Dody Goodman style of dumb but decides to go off to Tampa to find a cure for the corn.  And so she meets up with Gordy a “corn doctor” (a podiatrist).  Now he owes lots of dough to some gangsters due to his gambling and is a major con-man who gives Maizy “the line” goes back with her to cure the corn – discovering some large buried purple rocks are cutting off the water supply and need I go further?

It’s all silly fun if you are a sucker for this type of humor.  Oh yes.  Gordy (an excellent John Behlmann) makes a play for Maizy but eventually falls in with Lulu as the befuddled brother of Beau – Peanut (Kevin Cahoon) immediately bringing to mind Don Knotts – often interrupts the crazy proceedings with his own low key comments/puns to the delight of the audience.

Director Jack O’Brien is up to his old skillful tricks.  Sarah O’Gleby shines with her “Barrel” choreography and Rockette line of corn husks.  But a little hokum goes a long way.

That’s all folks.

At the Nederlander Theatre.  Masks suggested.  208 West 41 Street 2 hours 15 minutes with one intermission.  www.shuckedmusical.com

Photos:  Matthew Murphy & Evan Zimmerman

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In this impressive revival/revisal of Lerner & Loewe’s melodious and witty musical first produced in 1960, based on T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, director Bartlett Sher and Aaron Sorkin (responsible for the up-to-date new book) are the true magicians at work at the Vivian Beaumont Lincoln Center Theater.

Creating romance, intrigue, revenge – and yes – Merlyn type magic, superimposing their own impressive concept that bring the young Arthur (Andrew Burnap), Princess Guenevere (Phillipa Soo) and Sir Lancelot (Jordan Donica) right down to earth baring their most human emotions.  Truthfully.  Bringing us into the stark reality of their lives so that we truly care for them.

Well thought out.  Well-constructed.  Extremely well cast.  Beautifully staged on a stark Macbeth-like set (Michael Yeargan) that is incredibly lit by Lap Chi Chu enhancing the period costumes by Jennifer Moeller.  Everything and everyone is consistent with Bartlett Sher’s concept which, surprise to tell, absolutely works.

Focusing on character.  On what makes this young, congenial Arthur tick.  Maturing before our eyes, creating the Knights of the Round Table, dealing with his illegitimate son Mordred (a deliciously viciously evil Taylor Trensch) all the while singing some of the smartest lyrics of Alan Jay Lerner with memorable and melodic music by Frederick Loewe while a strong-willed, sarcastic and excellent chess playing Guenevere progressively falls in love with her French compatriot – possible matinee idol contender – Lancelot du Lac’s hesitant, subtle wooing.  It’s not easy being King.

Accompanied by a full pit, thirty strong orchestra that sounds terrific.  It’s been a too-long-wait since I could state that!

Dakin Matthews as a doddering and confused Pellinore provides much of the humor.  And fight director B.H. Barry has created some of the most realistic sword fights imaginable.  Breathtaking.

Romantic love.  Gained and lost.  Honesty and integrity at stake – almost lost.  But in the end there is hope.  Always hope.  For our future generations and the fate of future musicals.  Take a trip to CAMELOT.  You may learn something or have something you have forgotten about rekindled.

“Camelot.  Camelot.

I know it sounds a bit bizarre.

But in Camelot, Camelot

That’s how conditions are.”

2 hrs. 55 minutes.  One intermission.  Extended through September 3^rd.  Original cast recording soon to be available.  www.lct.org

Photos:  Joan Marcus

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Poor Cyndi!  Forced to being an outcast ‘cuz she doesn’t conform to the standards set forth in Belleville where “beauty is a duty” – just one of the not-so-nifty lyrics of David Zippel’s disappointing words set to the not-so-nifty music of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber in this not-so-new musical in search of its story and style by the not-so-terrific director Laurence Connor.

As I arrived at the Imperial Theatre expecting to see the “bomb” with bad word of mouth and a slew of unanimously bad reviews of BAD CINDERELLA dancing through my head I was unexpectedly surprised to see a horde of people, mostly pre-teen and teen girls eagerly awaiting to enter.

After viewing this inconsistent, over the top show I understood.  This is BAD CINDERELLA’S core ticket buying audience.  This is the new mean girls musical geared to get them screeching and hooting from their expensive seats at the spare no expense vulgar tourist trap spectacle set before them.

This is a new type of musical for a new audience.  Little do they know what a real musical should be – and they won’t learn from this one.  This is a little bit American Idol, a little bit of hold that last note out for as long as possible and get those hoots and screams.  A little bit So You Think You Can Dance.

A dumbed down musical.  Cruise ship and/or ice arena extravaganza material.  A Carol Burnett satire.  But without wit.  Without focus.  Without the necessary talent to pull it off.

Lavish, garish, swirling gaudy gowns.  Bare chested hunky men extolling their “hot buns” and enticing tempting pecs straight (and I use the term loosely) out of Chippendales.

There is a trade mark Lloyd Webber ballad.  Oft re-echoed.  Sounding like a tune from BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.  There is a barbed duet between the Queen and Cyndi’s stepmother bringing to mind Jerry Herman’s “Bosom Buddies” from MAME but without his flair for words and music.

For most of the show my mind kept wandering and wondering what I was seeing reminded me of.  Not a good sign.

A fast revolving turntable where a half a cow is being milked and storybook sets reminiscent of Disney and INTO THE WOODS (that other far superior fairy tale inspired musical by Sondheim).  Mr. Stephen Sondheim knew exactly what he was creating.  Poor Cyndi is another story altogether.  Fresh juicy oranges vs rotten peaches.

I shan’t bore you with the story as is.  They do that for you.  Except for the clever updated twist as its grand finale.  The last twenty minutes suddenly became alive.  I was finally interested in these characters and what happens to them.

As if the fairy Godmother (resident plastic surgeon) waved her magic wand (a hypodermic needle) for an all-inclusive out-of-the-closet-happily-ever-after inspiration.

It almost saved the show.  But almost doesn’t count.  Cast names withheld to protect the innocent.  They are courageous and work their tails off.

Photos:  Matthew Murphy / Evan Zimmerman

Imperial Theatre 249 West 45th Street

2 hrs. 30 min.  One Intermission.  Through Sept. 3rd 2023

PLEASE WEAR MASKS

www.badcinderellabroadway.com

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Be prepared.  Jessica Chastain is spectacular as Nora Helmer.  As she sits seemingly spellbound in a chair on a bare stage, dressed in dark blue, alone with her striking profile and red hair, staring out into the audience as the turntable rotates slowly her mind is hard at work.  Round and round she goes. Barely moving.  Thinking.

Quietly simmering.  Contemplating her life such as it is with her domineering husband Torvald (a fine and obnoxious Arian Moayed) who has just gotten an all-important position at the bank – meaning more money!  And as it was with her domineering father.

Nora, a thing of beauty for them to enjoy as they would like.  A beautiful plaything.  Their doll.  And so we begin…

The production at the Hudson Theatre is remarkable.   From the concise, sharp and detailed adaptation/new version by Amy Herzog from the original by Henrik Ibsen to the imaginative and stark direction of Jamie Lloyd – bringing back fond memories of his 2019 production of BETRAYAL we witness the incredible transformation of Nora; seamlessly transitioning from scene to intimate scene.  One on one.

There is nothing to distract from the text.  All actors are in dark blue.  A few chairs, a turntable.  A bare dark wall.  No props – including wedding rings and children.  One must listen.  Listen carefully.  And watch the faces and reactions of the actors.

The major plot points are intact.  Nora’s financial secret that is to be revealed and then the scheme to blackmail her if Nils, Okieriete Onaodowan  (a bank employee) reveals how Nora got the money to help cure her husband’s illness.  Her childhood friend and confidante Kristine – Jesmille Darbouze.  Anne-Marie the family nurse (Tasha Lawrence) and Dr. Rank (a wonderfully charmer of a man slowly dying – Michael Patrick Thornton) a best friend of Torvald and in love with his wife Nora.  A finer ensemble you won’t encounter.

Control.  Greed.  Lies.  Tears.  Fear.  All simmering on the back burner.  Until the eruption between Torvald and Nora leading to a devastatingly surprise denouement.

Up close and personal.  Extremely personal.  With a hint of Ingmar Bergman and all the elements in place to make a fine theatrical experience to savor until June 10^th.  At the Hudson Theatre 141 West 44 Street

1 hour 40 minutes.  No Intermission.  No late seating.

PHOTOS – Courtesy of A Doll’s House

www.adollshousebroadway.com

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This won’t take long.  Much shorter than the two act, two hour and forty minute excruciating exercise on view at The Connelly Theatre on East 4^th Street co-authored by Zuzanna Szadkowski and Deborah Knox seemingly massaging both egos.

Thankfully there was an intermission that allowed a few patrons less intrepid than I to escape the mostly incomprehensible, ridiculous, dreary goings-on.

Szadkowski (Lizzie/Nora) and Knox (Lizzie’s maid/Sharon Tate are both better actors than writers in this incoherent, absurd throw everything into the pot (including lots of blood and spaghetti) and see what happens, difficult to follow tale of Lizzie Borden (ACT 1) and Nora of A Doll’s House fame (Act 2) with a dash of Tate thrown in for good or should I say bad measure?

I really wanted to see this production at The Connelly Theatre on East 4^th Street between Ave A and Ave B directed by Eric Tucker after his outstanding work on PERSUASION (9/29/21) and received the confirmation just hours before the Saturday matinee performance 3/4/23.

An extremely disappointing afternoon with the living dead.  Not since the infamous MOOSE MURDERS have I been so flummoxed by a supposedly riotous production.  FALL RIVER FISHING is a very solemn affair.  Too long.  Too disjointed.  Too bad.

After attempting to concentrate I finally had to give up.  It didn’t matter what happened to these unlikable people.  Couldn’t care less.

But the acting was fine.  Indeed, more than fine.  Included in the five member cast are Susannah Millonzi, Tony Torn and Jamie Smithson who appeared in the aforementioned PERSUASION.  And an all-important small brass dinner bell.

Just hard to connect.  The authors certainly have a lot to say in a rather psycho analytical confessional mode.  Not funny.  Nor satirical.  Just long.   Good theater stems from good writing.  The words influence all.  Without good words there is nothing.

Good theater should inform via story and character.  Aiming to enlighten, to connect and to entertain.  To pleasantly surprise.  Not bore an audience into checking their watches every five minutes or so.

Where is Charles Ludlam when you need him?  Just imagine what he would have made of Lizzie and Nora and Sharon!

CLOSING 3/9/23 MASKS NECESSARY

www.Bedlam.org

PHOTO:  NY TIMES

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Never leave dirty dishes in the sink.  Always make your bed.  And if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t!  But certain rules are made to be broken.  Right?  So here goes.

PICTURES FROM HOME is not a play.  It is a project.  Not even a good project.  Based on a book by Larry Sultan.  A very successful book of photos of its author’s parents: Irving and Jean Sultan with interviews and comments and, of course, the numerous photos and home movie clips regarding their relationship taken and recorded over an eight year period in the 80’s.

Yes, EIGHT YEARS!  He visited them on and off weekends away from his wife and child to gather info and unearth the subtext of their dismal lives.  Which doesn’t come across clearly in this production.  Turn the photo over and what to you see?  Nothing.  And unfortunately that is what you come away with at STUDIO 54.

A much too large space for an intimate three character play.  I mean, project.  With three talented and surefire box office stars:  Nathan Lane, Danny Burstein and Zoe Wanamaker and first-rate director Bartlett Sher.  It does not work.  Not well constructed nor well written with lackluster direction.  The villain appears to be adapter/writer Sharr White.

Without intermission PICTURES FROM HOME seems like a three hour, soap opera, sitcom saga.  Lots of over the top screaming from Nathan.  Lots of surprising “fuck this and fuck that.”  An altogether unlikable portrayal.  In fact, it was almost impossible to get his grating voice out of my mind afterwards.  A disappointing one note performance.

Much is made of Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People.  Irv (Nathan) was an on the road salesman but the character on stage does not seem to have followed what preacher Carnegie preached.

From son Larry (Danny) – lots of smiling and pensive ponderings.  And lots of busybody work by mama Zoe and scampering around the large true to life replicated period lime green setting (Michael Yeargan) as they, each in turn, talk to us, the audience, as if we were best friends and neighbors allowing our minds to wander thither and yon as the tired saga slowly unfolds.  It is just plain boring.

I kept imagining first Alan King with his cigar and standup Ed Sullivan act.  Then Jerry Stiller as dad and Ben Stiller as his son.  That would have been interesting.

My best advice is to stay home and revisit your own family photo history.

At STUDIO 54.  1 hour 45 minutes.  No intermission.

www.picturesfromhomebroadway.com

PHOTO:  Julieta Cervantes

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This new musical adaptation of the classic Billy Wilder 1959 comedy starring Jack Lemon, Tony Curtis and Marilyn Monroe should be herewith subtitled – Thoroughly Modern Daphne or How Jerry/Geraldine aka Daphne finds her inner true self and lives happily ever after.

After all, J. Harrison Ghee, tall, lanky, totally honest and believable comes out smelling like roses as Daphne and is the true breakout star of this valiant but flawed show.   They all try so hard.  Too hard.  That’s one of its problems.

Also it is a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth business.  Everyone and their moms seem to have given their individual input – including Christian Borle (additional material).  Book by Matthew Lopez and Amber Ruffin (sometimes amusing; hardly uproarious).  Music by Marc Shaiman (I defy anyone to remember one tune).  Lyrics Scott Wittman & Marc Shaiman (repetitive hooks).  The songs are bombastic to the eardrums and immediately forgettable.  Only a constant rhythmic throbbing echo remains.

There is a calculated creative attempt to lure both a young liberated audience along with the older folks with good old fashioned Broadway razzmatazz.  This co-mingling of classic Wilder and new wave woke is a strange match.

Daphne wins.  Along with her newfound love Osgood.  A wily, zany, lovable, scene stealing and altogether charming Kevin Del Aguila who at times seems to be channeling Michael Jeter from Grand Hotel.

But I am getting ahead of myself.  Chicago.  The depression.  Joe plays the sax.  Does magic.  Jerry plays an upright bass.  They are buddies.  Looking for work.  Unfortunately they witness a gangland killing and need to escape the thugs.  They do so by donning drag, becoming a dowdy Josephine and a delightful Geraldine right before our eyes until Geraldine decide she is Daphne.

They are hired by Sweet Sue (NaTasha Yvette Williams – a big brassy mama, protective of her all girl band where its star attraction is Sugar Cane (a comely Adrianna Hicks who can BELT to the rafters).  They are on their way to California via train.  Unfortunately a repetitive and somewhat boring “I’m California Bound” not “On the Atchison Topeka and the Santa Fe”.  And so the chase commences.

Finally (and I do mean FINALLY) arriving in California where we meet Osgood and Osgood meets Daphne and Joe/Josephine pursues Sugar as Kip von something or other with a fake German/Austrian accent influenced by Mrs. Malaprop where the chase continues.  Tapping right along.  To Mexico where Osgood woos Daphne with a mariachi band in tow.  Still with me?

Aided and abetted by director/choreographer Casey Nicholaw whose frenetic pace and bombastic delivery of songs becomes almost numbing while wearing out its welcome much too soon.  The numerous numbers had my mind wandering – not a good thing – thinking how all could be improved or what they reminded me of.  Despite the colorful costumes of Gregg Barnes and Deco set by Scott Pask.  Shame on Brian Rohan’s sound design – louder is not better!

All this havoc culminates with a Jerome Robbins/Keystone Kops inspired hectic, door slamming thugs and bellhop and everyone else tap dancing finale.  But not before we have three 11 o’clock numbers for each star that are a bit much of a not so good thing.

SOME LIKE IT HOT is well intentioned but not so terrific in its execution.  No pun intended.  I absolutely adored Daphne.

2 hours thirty minutes with one intermission.  MASKS are advised and encouraged.

PHOTOS: MARC J FRANKLIN

For old times sake:

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For this we waited 58 years to see back on Broadway?!  Summer Stock is alive and faltering at the August Wilson Theatre where this extremely disappointing revisal of FUNNY GIRL has recently opened.

OK.  Beanie Feldstein (age 29) is not Barbra Streisand the original Fannie Brice when she was twenty two and instantly became a STAR. The only thing they have in common is that they are both Jewish.  Had I never seen the original production in 1964, had I never heard Streisand sing, I would still wonder how in the world this newest two and a half hour with one intermission adaptation came into being.

When Beanie Feldstein whose previous claim to fame is portraying Monica Lewinski in Impeachment:  American Crime Story and Minnie Fay in Bette Midler’s 2017 HELLO DOLLY is chosen for an important classic role made famous by Streisand producers should have looked beyond popular ticket sales.

Beanie does have a following as evidenced by the audience’s wild reaction to her cavorting and mugging on stage.  But can she handle this starring role? Nope.  It is far beyond her capabilities.  Especially in the singing department.  She works very hard – in overdrive.  Enjoying every single moment on stage.  But she is simply not believable as Fanny Brice.  She isn’t natural.  We see the technique working.  Belting and holding a note does not a singer make.

She isn’t helped with the sound design (Brian Ronan) which is hurtful to the ear drums.  Nor by the garish Las Vegas looking costumes (Susan Hilferty).  Ditto on the eyes.  Nor the set design (David Zinn) whose centerpiece of a circular brick wall that opens to reveal other locations reminded me of the Tower of London.

And the entire production is handicapped by its in and out meandering direction by director Michael Mayer.

Is there anything I admired you may ask?  Yes.  The score by Jule Styne and Bob Merrill is still one of the best.  It would be hard to ruin People, and Don’t Rain on My Parade and The Music That Makes Me Dance but Beanie comes close.

Harvey Fierstein has done his best to rearrange and make sense of the original libretto by Isabelle Lennart.  But it becomes a hodgepodge of quick scenes and short reprises with eye popping flashing neon lights every so often.

Jane Lynch does a good job with Fannie’s mom.  Funny.  Great timing.  We see that she would much rather be performing on stage like her daughter than playing poker with her neighborhood chums.

Ramin Karimloo as Fannie’s love interest the gambler Nick Arnstein sings well and thanks to Harvey Fierstein has been given a lot more to do.  Highlight:  Duet with Beanie – Who Are You Now?  But…

Finally, Jared Grimes as Fannie’s buddy Eddie Ryan almost stops the show with his star turn tap dancing number courtesy of Ayodele Casel – a most welcome relief.

Favorite musical number – Rat-Tat-Tat-Tat.

Now what’s with the large golden bow atop Beanie’s I mean Fannie’s head shown on Playbill’s cover that never appears on stage?

Photo ID.  Proof of vaccination.  MASK UP.  www.funnygirlonbroadway.com

NOTE:  Ramin Karimloo has tested positive for COVID and will be out for 10 days

Photos:  Matthew Murphy

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There is a good reason why Neil Simon was known as The King of Comedy.  And one prime example is on view at the resplendent Hudson Theatre where a slew of his theatrical posters – plays and musicals – are displayed in the lobby where PLAZA SUITE which originally opened in 1968 has taken over in a limited run.

Three acts.  Three couples.  Marital woes.  One hotel suite.  Bravo John Lee Beatty!  One intermission.  One pause.  Plenty of laughs.

And live and in person.  One married couple.  Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick.

Two Broadway Babies.  All grown up.  Married to one another and their careers.  And very famous.  Not exactly Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne.  More like Sid Caesar (with all due respect to Mr. Caesar) and Imogene Coca from Your Show of Shows where Neil Simon sharpened his wit.

Sarah Jessica Parker is a trouper; hubby…a party pooper.  His trademark boyish charm is still there but waning.  Somehow inappropriate.  She is phenomenal.  A blast from comedy heaven past.  Honest, straight forward with perfect timing and delivery.  Looking as stylish as one can look in 60’s retro outfits by Jane Greenwood.  She surpassed my expectations.  He did not disappoint, turning in yet another lackluster, blasé, I couldn’t care less yet adequate performance.  Best as the slimy Hollywood producer attempting to seduce his years ago high school sweetie from Tenafly who knows how to handle her bottomless vodka stingers.

Beneath the laughter which is almost nonstop and madcap shenanigans (adroitly directed by John Benjamin Hickey) there is an underlying sadness, loneliness and seething anger in this marriage on the rocks threesome.  No one is happy.  Or content.  Still looking for the magic pill called happiness.

Infidelity, excessive drinking, lying and that nasty thing that somehow grows over the years between married couples – the blame game.

Whether they are from Mamaroneck or Hollywood or Tenafly, New Jersey or Forest Hills the inhabitants of Suite 719 at The Plaza share the same malaise.  With great relish.  And plenty of laughs.

I recommend taking this historical and hysterical time capsule journey – a fond memory for some and an informative look into the past for newcomers.

Thanks for the memories!  www.plazasuitebroadway.com

Photo ID.  Proof of vaccination.  MASK UP!

Photos:  Joan Marcus

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As in Bernadette Peters who starred as Dot in Sunday in the Park with George in 1984 at the Booth Theatre.  We shared the same vocal coach.  I remember arriving at James Gregory’s studio early and sitting on the staircase just to hear Bernie sing.  That’s what I called her.  Bernie.

And so I decided to adapt, to personalize Everybody Loves Louis a song from Sunday to Everybody Loves Bernie.  I was brave back then.  Delivering my lyric backstage at the Booth.  One could do such things back then.

And so, with the publication of James Lapine’s book PUTTING IT TOGETHER featured recently on CBS Sunday Morning I bravely share it with you.

https://youtu.be/jj9qsMBZUHs

THE SONG OF BERNADETTE – September 8, 1984

Dear Bernie,

I’ve a surprise – here!  With all due respect and complete admiration for Mr. Sondheim’s lyrics I hereby submit to you – the following – I simply had to do it…

Everybody loves Bernie

Bernie’s sexy and kind

Everybody loves Bernie

Bernie’s huggable.

Why go on a long journey?

Turn the corner and find

That Bernie the soubrette

Is all that we had in mind – and – (change orchestration)

Bernie sure is a singer

Bernie sings from the heart

Bernie never does linger

Bernie’s punctual

Everybody loves Bernie

Bernie brings us French art

It’s said Greg

Her father’s bread Greg

I think I read Greg

He really kneads it

As no one has Greg

LAZZARA

Bernie’s face is so flawless

Bernie’s face is so bright

Bernie makes you feel lawless

Bernie’s sensuous

That’s the thing about Bernie

Bernie’s got her Dot right

Bernie’s hips are an act to follow

Bernie’s lips allow her to swallow

Not that Bernie’s perfection

That’s what makes her ideal

Hardly anything worth objection

Bernie flirts a bit

Bernie hurts a bit

Bernie makes a connection

That’s the thing that you feel

She weighs parts

And then she plays parts

And there are Rubys

And there are Mabels

But never Tonys

Nor Oscars won

But still we

Adore Bernie

Everybody loves Bernie

And the magic she makes

Everybody loves Bernie

She has captured us

Not afraid to be sweeter

Peters knows what it takes

Everybody gets along with her

She’s no trouble

Life’s a song with her

Bernie has to be that way

Bernie ALWAYS be that

Bernie is it!

As ever

Oscar

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