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Well thousands of folks back east, they say,
Are leaving home most every day; And they're beating the hot, old, dusty way to the California line. Across the desert sands they roll, A-getting' out of that old Dust Bowl. And they think they're going to a sugar bowl, And here is what they find. The police at the port of entry say, "You're number fourteen thousand for today." Chorus If you ain't got the do-re-mi, boys, If you ain't got the do-re-mi, Well, you'd better go back to beatiful Texas, Oklahoma, Georgia, Kansas, Tennessee. California is a Garden of Eden, It's a paradise to live in or see, But, believe it or not, you won't find it so hot, If you ain't got the do-re-mi. Well, if you want to buy you a home or farm, That deal nobody harm; Or take your vacations by the mountains or the sea, Don't swap your old cow for a car, You'd better stay right where you are. Well, you'd better take this little tip from me, Because I look through the want ads every day, And the headlines on the paper always say: (Chorus) |
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