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