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