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Little Big Screen The women-folk bake apple pies Kind and gentle they never tell lies The birds soar across silver skies Whilst in the cradle a baby cries Wigwam warriors hunt for deer And cowboys herd a thousand steer. The river that reflects the sun Is where we see the battle won! Tall are mountain and redwood tree Where once a bear did roam free The Wild West life on celluloid Is comfort for the paranoid Perfumed dogs are dressed in kilts And circus monkeys walk on stilts The clown weeps at this disgrace The decline and fall of the human race Demons ride marauding cars As spaceships seek out distant stars And, to thyself should be true, When saluting: red, white, and blue! “Pilgrims progress to conventions” And demonstrate their inventions God bless the Land of Plenty Where grandmas look only twenty Such beauty we had (A Paradise) Is now destroyed to be precise And in its place a sad cartoon The madness of a man on the moon The sun shines and it seldom rains Where the painted dolls bake apple pies And wispy white clouds roll across lazy blue skies…


Little Big Screen