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Phantagraph, v. 8, issue 3, whole 32, August 1940
Page 15
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The Phantagraph, Aug '40, Page 13 god bless america leslie perri this then is america: you and i all of us in our separate ways, and leaning together in a common scare. but the scare is nothing compared to a movie marquee, the subway rush and mr. john doe, who is your boss and my boss, and who make the noon-day whistle mean a quick lunch and sally, who runs a sewing machine on 2.98 dresses, wish he had a young son, because lipstick from woolworth can make a blonde look pretty good. but then america: is the lands of cars, long dark birds and squat, whoozing junk-heaps, of soaring planes and signs: "the army needs you son" so what the hell. you think of mr. hitler and relief and w.p.c. and you say to the guy: "i went to join". and they stick you in khaki, hand you a gun and it makes you feel swell 'cause all girls go for a uniform, even dames in packards. since america: is the land of the free, you don't mind conscription, drafts, third terms and "shut your mouth" when you talk about peace. you think about the tommies, the poilus and you agree that hitler can't get away with that here. this is america, god bless it, with kate smith, and we gotta keep it clear of an asiatic horde of nazis, red and everbody except americans and refugees. america means liberty! and that's swell americanism: you can shoota gun. now. peel potatoes with the best of them and you know all about bugles, drill and army obscenity. the army is a career and though the pay is little, it helps in crap games. when you think of the guys, doing things outside, lawyers, doctors,
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The Phantagraph, Aug '40, Page 13 god bless america leslie perri this then is america: you and i all of us in our separate ways, and leaning together in a common scare. but the scare is nothing compared to a movie marquee, the subway rush and mr. john doe, who is your boss and my boss, and who make the noon-day whistle mean a quick lunch and sally, who runs a sewing machine on 2.98 dresses, wish he had a young son, because lipstick from woolworth can make a blonde look pretty good. but then america: is the lands of cars, long dark birds and squat, whoozing junk-heaps, of soaring planes and signs: "the army needs you son" so what the hell. you think of mr. hitler and relief and w.p.c. and you say to the guy: "i went to join". and they stick you in khaki, hand you a gun and it makes you feel swell 'cause all girls go for a uniform, even dames in packards. since america: is the land of the free, you don't mind conscription, drafts, third terms and "shut your mouth" when you talk about peace. you think about the tommies, the poilus and you agree that hitler can't get away with that here. this is america, god bless it, with kate smith, and we gotta keep it clear of an asiatic horde of nazis, red and everbody except americans and refugees. america means liberty! and that's swell americanism: you can shoota gun. now. peel potatoes with the best of them and you know all about bugles, drill and army obscenity. the army is a career and though the pay is little, it helps in crap games. when you think of the guys, doing things outside, lawyers, doctors,
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