| This big highway goes from coast to coast
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| From New Yorker town down to Los Angeles;
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| It’s named for Willy Rogers that went on this road
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| From New Yorker town down to Los Angeles
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| My Sixty-Six highway, this Will Rogers road
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| It’s lined with jalopies just as far as I can see;
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| Can you think up a joke, Will, for all o’these folks
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| From New Yorker town down to Lost Angeles?
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| Ten thousand lost families I count every day
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| Caught under my bridges and under my trees;
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| Can you make up a joke that’ll win them a job
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| From New Yorker town down to Lost Angeles?
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| I love Willy Rogers, I love your big smile
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| I go to my showhouse, Will Rogers to see;
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| Can you grin up a tale that’ll feed my folks stranded
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| 'Twist New Yorker town and Lost Angeles?
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| This Will Rogers highroad I hitched lots o’times;
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| All day long you sizzle; |
| all night long I freeze;
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| Did ye tickle Hoover enuf ta build us all houses
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| From New Yorker town down to Lost Angeles?
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| Willy Rogers got born down around Oolagah
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| In my great Indian nation of the Cherokee;
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| My Indians all call this the Hungry Gut Highway
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| From New Yorker town down to Lost Angeles
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| I bummed this good road with folks you call Goons
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| And your high families called us the lost refugees;
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| You hafta go back, Will, and tickle 'em again
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| From New Yorker town down to Lost Angeles |