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Thank you for all the nice people waving to our cars in the parade.
W-R-J-N, our flagship station on the music of the stars.
W-R-J-N celebrating a hundred years in a few
months.
I'll catch you, little
baby.
The Kenosha kickers put on quite a show With a clarinet, warbling and his accordion held tight The Kenosha kickers play there every night Polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, pol
The music never stops.
We'll do the kiss me polka every night until we drop.
And when we go to heaven, we'll polka up there too.
Gus will lead the kinkers and below they'll polka too.
I'm racing up to Sheboygan.
We sing our merry song.
We spin around the dance floor.
We dance the night away.
Gus Polinsky's poker magic makes us swing and sway.
So raise a glass in K-town when the band begins to play.
For Gus and all the kickers who can brighten any day.
And if you hear that squeeze box laid some night way down the block.
Gus Polinsky's Kenosha kickers play around the clock.
where the cold winds always blow.
Gus Paul and Skis Kenosha kickers put on quite a show, with a clarinet, warbling and his accordion held tight.
The Kenosha kickers play there every night.
Polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka, polka
Everybody knows the words to every song.
Hey, polka, polka, polka, the music never stops.
We'll do the kiss me polka every night until we drop.
And when we go to heaven, we'll polka up there too.
Gus will lead the kinkers, and below they'll polka too.
Hey!
From racing up to Sheboygan, we sing our merry song.
We spin around the dance floor, we dance the night away.
Gus Polinsky's polka magic makes us swing.
The gazoon-tide polka Come on and dance, the gazoon-tide polka It means the same as pros-it Which means good health to you First find a dimple-fraw line Be smart and soon she will fall for your line Then the gazoon-tide polka Will make your dreams come true
Waiters dancing with their trays
Bringing out the signs of fear Drinking till the break of day Everyone is full of cheer What a happy, happy thrill When you hear the oomplop band How can anyone be still Grab your partner by the hand
I guess our computer didn't
like that song.
So here's another one.
This is an Irish polka, believe it or don't.
Spike Jones, that is very worst.
When good folks meet in Ireland,
the
parties that they have are grand.
Music of
an
Irish band is like a breath of spring.
What Irish men enjoy the most is when they gather round the host with a famous Irish toast and this is what they sing.
Slanta, slanta, that's the word they say.
Slanta means good health to you in the good old...
Irish way so don't be bashful don't be shy fill up your glass and raise it high drink and drink until it's dry and let your voices ring make the lead that you're in Killarney
roll your eyes at the Colleen's fair
dress your talk with a touch
of Blarney let your
laughter fill
the air
take the hands of your friendly neighbor spread out out in a great big wheel dance around and around DJ Bersue a lively Irish reel
And this is what they sing.
Slam-tha!
Slam-tha!
That's the word they say.
Slam-tha means good health to you and the good ol' Irish way.
So
don't be bashful, don't be shy.
Fill up your glass and raise it high.
Drink and drink until it's dry and let your voices ring.
10-4, 10-4
1959 television series, Ned Washington and George Dooning.
It was replaced later on by Billy May version.
The music of the star of some TV themes.
You gotta love them.
When television won.
You gotta love it.
From Roha, Dmitry T. Omkin, who wrote High and the Mighty, and Roha.
Briff Blues, this is from Mickey Spelane, Mike Hammer.
Melvin Linnard wrote this one.
Plus Baxter.
animation theme.
Fred Steiner wrote this one, but tomorrow.
Here's a receding
lady.
While some long we sang a song, then we strove at Golden Sand, to sweet lips and the sun.
Like painted cards those days and nights, they were
Buddy Marl, Martyrcom, television themes on
TV was...
I have to wash and comb my hair.
And that's just wasted effort.
Water in the wells and getting lower and lower.
Can't take a bath for six months more.
But I've heard it said, it's true, I'm sure.
That too much bathing will weaken you.
Open the door and the fly swam in.
I close the door and I'm sweating again.
And in the process, I crack machining.
Just one done, thing after another.
Oh, Brown, you, he must be sick.
I jammed him in the rump with a pin on his stick.
He humped his back, but he wouldn't kick.
Now, there's something cock-eyed somewhere.
A mouse is chewing on the pantry door.
He's been at it for a month or more.
When he gets through, he'll sure be sure.
Because there ain't a gun thing in there.
Hound dog Howlin' so full on.
There's his dog that was ever born.
He's a howlin' cause he's settin' on a thorn.
Just too tired to move over.
The tin roof leaks and the chimney leans.
There's a hole in the seat of my old blue jeans.
And I've got the last of the pork and beans.
Just can't depend on nothin'.
Yeah, I was going dry and the hens won't lay, fish quit biting, Saturday.
Troubles are piling up day by day.
Now I'm getting dandruff.
Grief and misery, pains and woes, debts and taxes, so it goes.
I think I'm getting the cold bedoes.
Life gets tasteless, don't it?
We'd like to take you on a musical tour of this great country of ours starting right here in our own hometown of Chicago, Illinois.
This is my kind of town.
at the fair.
there is just one place that can light my face
My home sweet home Sweet home
New tradition, Barbershop, Coruscata, Chicago.
Kenosha used to be a big barbershop town.
I
mean, musically.
It was peaceful back when I was a child.
Well, man, could it be that the girls and boys are trying to be heard above your noise?
And the lonely voice of youth cries, what is true?
A little boy of three sitting on the floor looks up and says, Daddy, what is war?
Son, that's when people fight and die.
A little boy of three says, Daddy, why?
Young man of 17 in Sunday school, being taught the golden rule.
And by the time another year's gone around, it may be his turn to lay his life down.
Can you blame the voice of youth for asking what is true?
Young man sitting on the witness stand.
The man with the book says, raise your hand.
Repeat after me.
I solemnly swear.
The man looked down at his long hair.
And although the young man solemnly swore, nobody seemed to hear anymore.
And it didn't really matter if the truth was there.
It was the cut of his clothes and the length of his hair.
And the lonely voice of you cries, what is true?
The young man speaking in the city square is trying to tell somebody that he cares.
Yeah, the ones that you're calling wild are gonna be the leaders in a little while.
This old world's wakin' to a newborn day, and I solemnly swear that it'll be their way.
You better help that voice of you find what is truth.
The
past.
Past.
Well now let me tell you about the past.
The past is filled with silent joys and broken toys.
Laughing girls and teasing boys.
Was I ever in love?
I called it love.
I mean, it felt like love.
There were moments when... well, there were moments when... present.
You like to dance?
Of course.
Take a walk along the beach tonight?
I'd love to.
But don't try to touch me.
Don't try to touch me.
Because that will never happen again.
Shall we dance?
Maybe someday I'll have somebody... Maybe somewhere, someone will understand.
You know, I used to sing.
A tisket, a tasket, a green and yellow basket.
I'm all packed up and I'm on my way, and I'm gonna fall in love.
But at the moment, it doesn't look good.
will never happen again.
The music of the stars were signing off for this day.
Welcome to summer next week.
A whole program, a salute to my favorite season.
It's the best.
Well, I say so.
What are you
saying?
Let's see
was a pup.
Over hills and valleys, we strayed.
Just a boy and his dog.
We were both full of fun.
We grew up together that way.
I remember the chime at the...
old swimming hole.
Well, I would have drowned beyond doubt.
But old chef was right there to the rescue he came.
He jumped in and helped drag me out.
Now the years rolled along and at last he grew old.
His eyesight was, well, fast growing dim.
Then one day the doctor looked at me and said, I can't do no more for him, Jim.
So with trembling hand, I picked up my gun and aimed it.
It sheds faithful head.
But I just couldn't do it.
I wanted to run.
I wish they'd shoot me instead.
So I threw down that old gun and ran right up to his side.
He laid his faithful old head right on my knee.
And friends, I stroked the best pal that a man ever found.
I even cried.
So I could scarcely see.
Now old Shep, he knew, knew he was going to go.
Because he reached down and licked at my hand.
Then he looked up at me and just as much as to say,
I hate it too, but you understand.
There's one thing I know.
Old ship has a wonderful home.
Thanks for joining us on the music of the stars.
The morning after the day before.
This is the civic media radio network and the music of the stars Stand by for news and we'll be back again Lord willing next Sunday seven until high noon central This is our weekend all of us And like Dickens said
God bless us, everyone.
Till next week then, keep your dreams alive and reach for the stars.
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