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Show . . . . LAST PAGE LYRIC I've done a lot of worrying 'bout fliers who go scurrying Across the ocean spaces to some Far place on the map! But that was in the days of yore I do not worry any more! And when and how and why they Go I do not give a snap! I used to get a wrinkled brow About the way they flew, and how' I waited for the papers, and I felt A deep concern About the chance of a wreck Or worse, perchance, a broken neck But here of late it's gotten so I Do not give a dern! I used to lose a lot of sleep When they were flying o'er the deep, And wonder if they'd land on land Or in the well-known soup. But now if they must go it's fine But it is no affair of mine! There've been so many of 'em That I do not give a whoop! |