Well, I really screwed that up! Thanks, Mark--Candice
--- Mark Weiss <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> This from
> http://home.nc.rr.com/tuco/looney/lyrics.html
>
>
> TOY TOWN HALL
> (Freleng/1936)
>
> When someone steals your heart away
> Let it be me
> But when someone steals your heart away
> Let it be me, just me
> Merrily we roll along, Rubinoff and me
> When he plays his fiddle I just go on a spree
> It's a cinch that every time I go on the air
> I just look around and find old Rubinoff there
> Sweet music makes a rainy day seem clear again
> It brings you near again to me
> Sweet music makes the same old story new again
> By bringing to you again my song
> Say, have you ever met the girl who's the talk of
> the town?
> A work of art without a question
> Who gives you part of her suggestions
> You better write her number down
> I'm wearing my green fedora, Fedora
> Not Alice, not Annie, not Casey but Fedora
> I usually come to town in a battered old hat of
> brown
> But it got red/green when me and my queen go
> steppin' around
> Fedora is the girl I love
> thanks to Bugsmer
>
>
> At 12:22 AM 8/30/2007, you wrote:
> >I like it too, Hal, particularly the way it recalls
> a
> >childhood cartoon called The Green Fedora:
> >
> >Oh I'm wearing my green fedora
> >Not for Mary but for Dora
> >For Dora is the one I love....
> >
> >(Not too sure about that "Mary")
> >
> >Candice
> >
> >
> >
> >--- andrew burke <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> >
> > > Wel, Hal, I like it - particularly the last
> couplet
> > > and that bit about war -
> > > _And the war strays over yet another
> > > border on its way to wherever it's going. _ A
> > > sustained tonal pitch that
> > > goes from playful to satirical.
> > >
> > > Thanks for it ...
> > >
> > > Andrew
> > >
> > >
> > > On 29/08/2007, Halvard Johnson
> > > <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> > > >
> > > > Sonnet: "Your Eyes Stray"
> > > >
> > > > Your eyes stray over to the verso side of the
> book
> > > > where you learn that short-term prospects are
> not
> > > > indeed good. The hero wanders into a labyrinth
> > > > of desire that would have daunted Casanova, or
> at
> > > >
> > > > least given him pause. The grass is always
> greener
> > > > on the other side of the street, as it's said.
> > > Mellow
> > > > as ever, the summer wends its way autumn-ward,
> > > > one fedora almost as good as another at
> covering
> > > >
> > > > that bald spot. And the war strays over yet
> > > another
> > > > border on its way to wherever it's going.
> > > Insurgents
> > > > mount incessant attacks, no matter how much we
> do
> > > > to assuage them. No, sir, the pastorale is not
> > > dead.
> > > >
> > > > Willows trail their branches in blood-red
> streams.
> > > > The sheep on the hill wear their furs
> inside-out.
> > > >
> > > >
> > > > Hal
> > > >
> > > > Halvard Johnson
> > > > ================
> > > > [log in to unmask]
> > > > http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard/index.html
> > > > http://entropyandme.blogspot.com
> > > > http://imageswithoutwords.blogspot.com
> > > > http://www.hamiltonstone.org
> > > >
> > >
>
>http://home.earthlink.net/~halvard/vidalocabooks.html
> > > >
> > >
> > >
> > >
> > > --
> > > Andrew
> > > http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
> > > http://www.inblogs.net/hispirits
> > > http://www.flickr.com/photos/aburke/
> > >
> >
> >
> >
> >
>
>____________________________________________________________________________________
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>
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