| Lyrics: | (C. Porter)
[Recorded Jule 10, 1963, Los Angeles]
A troupe of strolling players are we,
not stars like L. B. Mayer's are we,
But just a simple band who roams about the
land,
Dispensing plentyof frivolity.
Mere folks who give distraction are we, yes, and give
attraction are we, oh shut up, man
But just a crazy group, that never seeks to
sosoup,
Around a pack of little on a leash.
Well,. here we go, back to the home country
again.
We open in Venice, we next play Verona, then on to Cremona,
Lots of laughs in
Cremona, eh boys, our next jump in Parma, that dopy mopie menace,
And Mantua and Padua, and then
we open again. where?
We open in Venice, we next play Verona, then on to Cremona,
Lots of
bars in Cremona, our next jump is Parma, that tearless fearless menace,
And Mantua, and Padua,
then we open again. Where?
We open in Venice, we next play Verona, then on to Cremona,
Lots
of money in Cremona, our next jump in Parma, that's ingie pingie menace,
Then Mantua, then
Padua, and then we open again, where?
We open in Venice, we next play Verona, then on to
Cremona,
Lots of players in Cremona, our next jump in Parma, that heartless artless
menace,
Then Mantua, then Padua, the we open again. Where?
Oh, let me see now, I got a map,
let's pick out someplace.
Well just don't dicado back on the line now, oh let's take the first
canyon out of here.
As a matter fact if we hurry we can beat the sack, for the chef's out there
waiting for us.
Goodbye boys, gida, gida, gida. |
