| Hooray for Hollywood
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| That screwy, ballyhooey Hollywood
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| Where any office boy or young mechanic
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| Can be a panic, with just a goodlooking pan
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| Where any barmaid can be a star maid
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| If she dances with or without a fan
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| Hooray for Hollywood
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| Where you’re terrific, if you’re even good
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| Where anyone at all from TV’s Lassie
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| To Monroe’s chassis is equally understood
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| Go out and try your luck, you might be Donald Duck
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| Hooray for Hollywood
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| Hooray for Hollywood
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| That phoney, super coney Hollywood
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| They come from Chillicothes and Padukahs
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| With their bazookas to get their names up in lights
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| All armed with photos from local rotos
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| With their hair in ribbons and legs in tights
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| Hooray for Hollywood
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| You may be homely in your neighborhood
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| But if you think that you can an actor
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| See Mr. Factor, he’d make a monkey look good
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| With a half an hour, you’ll look like Tyrone Power
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| Hooray for Hollywood |