| Their star-light shone bright in the blackout
|
| Like the beams of the usherette
|
| But when the Big Bear bit deep after Yalta
|
| There were those that came to forget
|
| They went out West for the screening
|
| And they carried a sharp-tooth comb
|
| In search of the double meaning
|
| They were making the fur fly at home
|
| So get up! |
| Go on! |
| Grip that stand!
|
| And press your hand to your heart
|
| Big Mac is asking the questions
|
| And this is only the start
|
| Now Mac came on hot and noisy
|
| In his search for aid Uncle Joe
|
| As he tracked him down to Tinsel Town
|
| For Boise, Idaho
|
| And the folks that queued up for Coogan
|
| Now queued up for the end of a myth
|
| To sit open-mouthed at the newsreel
|
| The night that Chaplin took the Fifth
|
| And the offers packed up for so many
|
| Dropped like a Wurlitzer into the pit
|
| And what we got for the pain was more John Wayne
|
| And anything else that they saw fit
|
| Because when they needed to break resistance
|
| And they could not go on using a fist
|
| They took the cameras into the court-house
|
| They circulated a list |