Never thought he'd find her
Behind his window
She sets up at the side of his road
All the empty faces
Glide past his window
But there's only been the one that will glow
Boxes of papers
Cigars in wrappers
Fill his room like a shoppers window
Could he ever ask her
Would she give her number
Does she know that her heart he will hold
Stands in her queue now
He feels like a boy now
Her eyes are like the glistening snow
Can have your name girl
Or even your number
But it's only the New York Times and he goes
Go get your Cigarette Girl
Go get your Cigarette Girl
Go get yours I got mine
Back at his window
He looks upon her
With cigar ash falling like snow
Skims through his paper
And there in italic biro
Is her number 526550
Dear Mr Window
My name Florence
And maybe for a drink we could go
Looks to the window
Her lips they curve now
His heart belongs to cigarette Flo
Go get your Cigarette Girl
Go get your Cigarette Girl
I found mine in Cigarette Flo