Oh, Jessie, I’d like to be
One of those men upon the screen
With an elegant lady and a cafe in Paris
Serving Pernot and Kalua with cream
You can see it I know
All the doors have been closed in my face
And the drinks at the Casbah
Run a mile or more from this place
And, oh, Jessie won’t you look at the planes?
Tell me, oh, Jessie, is it true what they
That there’s a capital G in the name of the game
And the runway’s a home for my silver-red plane
And won’t you look at the planes
Riding down the skyway
Jessie, ain’t those wings just fine?
Don’t it make you want to fly someday?
Why, friend, am I so still?
Tied to my job with time to kill
Do I still bear the traces of old Don Quixote?
Tilting giants on imaginary hills