If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can't I?
Follow the yellow brick road.
How are things in Glocca Mora this fine day?
When the idle poor, Become the idle rich, You'll never know, Just who is who, Or who is which.
We gotta be free - The eagle and me. see Amelia Jenks Bloomer, Emancipation of Women
Say, it's only a paper moon, / Sailing over a cardboard sea.