In your Easter bonnet,
with all the frills upon it,
You'll be the grandest lady
in the Easter parade.
I'll be all in clover
and when they look you over,
I'll be the proudest fellow
in the Easter parade.
On the avenue, fifth avenue,
the photographers will snap us,
And you'll find that
you're in the rotogravure.
Oh, I could write a sonnet
about your Easter bonnet,
And of the girl I'm taking
to the Easter parade.
— Irving Berlin