A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square: The Five Best Versions

Last Updated 25 March 2025

A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square: The Five Best Versions
A nightingale singing in front of a Berkeley Square sign
I'm perfectly willing to swear we tried our best with this Photoshop. Image: Maggie Jones and Bernard DUPONT via creative commons

"I may be right, I may be wrong, but I'm perfectly willing to swear..."

It's a curious song with an unlikely origin story, and yet A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square is surely one of — if not the — best-known songs about London.

A Time magazine cover with Arlen on it
Michael Arlen wrote the short story When a Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square in 1923, which lyricist Eric Maschwitz 'borrowed' some years later. Image: public domain

Written shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War — and famously cooed by forces sweetheart Vera Lynn during it — the unabashedly sentimental love song brings to mind early spring nights in a half-deserted London, and perhaps the distant drone of bombers overhead. It is, however, very much an international song — penned in the French fishing village of Le Lavandou by American composer Manning Sherwin and lyricist Eric Maschwitz (himself English), who brazenly borrowed the title from a 1923 short story by the Bulgarian-born Michael Arlen, called When a Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square.

A French coastal village
Le Lavandou was the unlikely place where A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square was written and first performed. Image: Qjafcc via creative commons

The song debuted at a neighbourhood bar in Le Lavandou, with Manning playing piano, Maschwitz singing in between sips of wine and a local saxophonist chipping in. The fishermen were nonplussed. Perhaps it was the sax solo, perhaps the uncanny lyrics — with angels dining at the Ritz, and the altogether unrealistic appearance of the rural bird in central London. Perhaps it just hadn't been a good day of fishing.

A New Faces poster with Judy Campbell on it
Judy Campbell was the first person to sing Nightingale professionally, although she didn't record it until 2003, just a year before she passed away. Image: fair use

But Manning and Maschwitz knew they had a hit on their hands, and on 11 April 1940, Nightingale had its London debut at the New Faces revue at the Comedy Theatre (now the Harold Pinter Theatre). Judy Campbell was on vocal duties, and thanks to the song's swift popularity, became something of a star (she also later gave birth to another music luminary, Jane Birkin). Campbell didn't actually get around to recording Nightingale until 2003, by which time many hundreds of other artists already had. She died the following year.

The dizzying list of artists to wrap their vocal cords around the dainty ditty includes Frank Sinatra, Rod Stewart, Harry Connick Jr, Bing Crosby, Perry Como and Tori Amos. None of these, however, make our list of five favourite takes on the song. Is yours featured below?

Nat King Cole

The song has always been a shoo-in for crooners, but we reckon the silken timbre of Nat King Cole is top of the heap when it comes to Nightingale. The production's lushly OTT — all sweeping strings and fruity woodwind. The kind of soundscape made for sipping cocktails along to.

Blossom Dearie

Not content with penning hands-down the best ode to London when it's pissing it down, the often bouncy-voiced Blossom Dearie goes spine-tinglingly sultry with her cover of Nightingale. It's a sparse, lingering arrangement with Dearie's vocals carrying every magical word. As Miles Davis put it, "She’s the only white woman who ever had soul." Sorry, Vera.

Stan Getz

Proof that if you strip away Maschwitz's dreamily melancholic lyrics, you still have one helluva tune on your hands. There are a few versions of Getz's take on Nightingale on the market, but this vibraphone-steeped number from 1967 is particularly ethereal. It's also nice to think this is a tacit nod to the first, wrongly-spurned, saxophonist, who performed Nightingale at that bar in Le Lavandou.

John Le Mesurier

John Le Mesurier's already lovable Dad's Army character Sergeant Wilson gains an extra layer of pathos in this startlingly lugubrious take on Nightingale, which features as part of a live recording of a 1975 Dad's Army stage show. The actor half sings, half monologues his way through — at times sounding as if he'll crumble into tears. It's wistful enough to put you off your fish and chips. We're not alone in adoring this version; bookseller extraordinaire Tim Waterstone chose it as one of his eight tracks on Desert Island Discs.

Mark Corrigan

Croydon's biggest loser/most Honourable Man might not have the sultry tones of Nat King Cole, but by god, this soppy a cappella effort from Mark Corrigan — with which he eschews a boathouse orgy in favour of wooing Lovely Sophie — is as delightful as it is teeth-grindingly rotten. Get Super Hans to whip up a drum and bass B-side remix, and I think we're in business.