Masterful choice of song, Harper Thorpe. Laying over lyrics like those to lyrics like these:
Pardon me boy, is that the Chattanooga Choo Choo?
Track twenty nine, boy you can gimme a shine
I can afford to board a Chattanooga Choo Choo
I’ve got my fare and just a trifle to spare
You leave the Pennsylvania station ‘bout a quarter to four
Read a magazine and then you’re in Baltimore
Dinner in the diner, nothing could be finer
Than to have your ham ’n’ eggs in Carolina
When you hear the whistle blowin’ eight to the bar
Then you know that Tennessee is not very far
Shovel all the coal in, gotta keep it rollin’
Woo, woo, Chattanooga, there you are
There’s gonna be a certain party at the station
Satin and lace, I used to call funny face
She’s gonna cry until I tell her that I’ll never roam
sums up the essence of politics in the Fewnited Stats of Uh-merica right now. “Boy” and “shine” and “diner” and “shovel” and “satin and lace” and “cry” are like statue words from The Time When Political Incorrectness Was The Lie Of The Land.
