Show my home town in the abe concert hall ot of the church institute of new york city a motley crowd of scandinavians englishmen lish men slavs italians and americans white and negro were singing at the top of their lungs they had sung with some fervor before when the words of familiar songs were flashed on the screen but this was the song that really stirred them to enthusiasm not here not there its fifty arty milts miles from rora nowhere put but its my home town not here not there but rm im an all set to go there so ill make a break and take a look in the mirror wheres where s my hat bat wheres my coat veres whores my leather bag baat send my trunk to the place written on the tag not here not there its fifty miles from nowhere but its my home homa town As you see says the lookout of the institute this Is pretty bad poetry and tile the music was hardly better but as these men from the far corners of the earth sang about their he home in e to town wn with that curious ring in their voices it almost brought tears to the eyes etes A universal note had been struck the outlook |