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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 |