It's a Barnum and Bailey world, Just as phony as it can be...

If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can't I?

Songs are the pulse of a nation's heart. A fever chart of its health.

Virtue is its own revenge.

How are things in Glocca Mora this fine day?

Once I built a railroad; now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

Say, it's only a paper moon, / Sailing over a cardboard sea.