The Fine Art Of Ballad Playing

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In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning

I’ll Be Around

Dancing On The Ceiling

I’ll Never Be The Same

It Never Entered My Mind

Can’t We Be Friends

I See Your Face Before Me

I Get Along Without You Very Well

I See Your Face Before Me

This Love Of Mine

What Is This Thing Called Love?

Fine Art  of Ballad Playing back.jpeg
© Robert Zottola 2018