Say, it's only a paper moon, / Sailing over a cardboard sea.
The Lord made Adam, the Lord made Eve, he made 'em both a little bit naive.
When the idle poor, Become the idle rich, You'll never know, Just who is who, Or who is which.
Follow the fellow who follows a dream.
How are things in Glocca Mora this fine day?
Oh, innocent victims of Cupid, remember this terse little verse: To let a fool kiss you is stupid. To let a kiss fool you is worse.