Frank Crumit
Song of the Prune
La-la-la-laLa-la-la-laNowadays we often gaze On women over fiftyWithout the slightest trace Of wrinkles on their faceDoctors go and take their dough To make them young and niftyBut Doctors I defyTo tell me just whyNo matter how young a prune may beIt's always full of wrinklesWe may get them on our facePrunes get 'em every placeProhibition worries usBut prunes don't sit and broodFor no matter how young a prune may beIt's always getting stewedIn the kingdom of the fruitsThe prune is snubbed by othersAnd they are not allowedTo mingle with the crowdThough they're never on displayWith all their highbrow brothersThey never seem to mindSongtexteTo this fact they're resignedThat no matter how young a prune may beIt's always full of wrinklesBeauty treatments always failThey've tried all to no availOther fruits are enviousBecause they know real wellThat no matter how young a prune may beHot water makes 'em swellBaby prunes look like their dadBut not wrinkled quite as badEvery day in every wayThe world is getting betterWe've even learned to flyAs days go passing byBut how about the poor old pruneHis life is only wetterNo wonder he can't winIn the awful stew he's inNo matter how young a prune may beHe's always full of wrinklesWe may get them on our facePrunes get 'em every placeNothing ever worries themTheir life's an open bookBut no matter how young a prune may beIt has a worried lookPrunes act very kind they sayWhen sickly people moanBut no matter how young a prune may beIt has a heart of stone
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