Sic heigh and sing ho and sing verde-de-o—For the wide open spaces when Summer is King!
You sit by the sea with a blonde on your knee Til you find she's a phone girl expecting a ring!
You show her your mussels, she calls you a shrimp, You tread on a lobster and swim with a limp.
She says in a swim suit you look like a chimp—In the wide open spaces Where sunburn leaves traces On filleted places And Summer is King!
You find a nice bay and shout "Hips! Hips! Hurray!"
In the wide open spaces when Summer is King!
You angle all day but no girls come your way And the bird that you chase. is still up on the wing, You find one at last and you tell her, "My lamb, I know a quiet cove far away from the jam." Says she, "So do I—he's my husband—now scram!"
In the wide open spaces Where every one chases Around in their braces And Summer is King!
Sing long and sing loud and away with the crowd To the wide open spaces when Summer is Kingt You laugh and you flirt and you take off your shirt And kick over the traces like any old thing. For all of the world and his wife are awheel, Noses and wedding bells both start to peel, And the merry mosquitoes make many a meal On the wide open spaces Of hikers' fat faces And other odd places When Summer is King!
Letter From a Cuckoo Dear Sir, (Nat Gubbins of the: "Sunday: Express"), So much rubbish has been written about cuckoos that I think it is about time the public was enlightened on the various points which are raised each spring and continue to be discussed until the present time, when we are no longer a subject of controversy.
Whether we lay our eggs in another bird's nest and allow that bird to hatch them, or whether we kick the other bird and her eggs out of their nest and hatch our own eggs, is a private matter and nothing whatever to do with nature-lovers and other prying busybodies. We mind our own business and expect other people to mind theirs, What we would like the public to understand is that we do not make that cuckoo-ing noise to amuse ourselves. We make it in order to let the British people know that summer is coming, because we are certain they would never know by the weather.
We also provide the chief topic of conversa tion in country vicarages in April, "and give correspondents. in the newspapers subject matter for endless futile and tedious arguments.
Some of these correspondents have been rud enough to point out that towards the end of May to the middle of June our note becomes harsher and feebler, and sometimes sounds like a hiccough.
We would like to ask these correspondents if they could call "cuckoo, cuckoo" for three months in all weathers without getting a little hoarse, In performing this public service many of us suffer from colds, and if, when our period of duty is over, we take a little something for our chests and get hiccoughs we can see no reason why such a trial misfortune should be published in the Press.
It might be interesting to know if these correspondents would like their indiscretions made a matter of national ridicule, and what action they would take against the newspaper in question.
We should add that we always read your column with interest, specially the pieces about animals and birds.
With kind regards, I remain, Sir, Yours faithfully, A. Cuckoo,
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.