Mumbo-jumbo Will Hoo-doo You, Mumbo-jumbo Will Hoo-doo

The Crooning Turns To A Sunrise Singing.

Oh, I Have Walked In Kansas Through Many A Harvest Field, And Piled The Sheaves Of Glory There And Down The Wild Rows Reeled: Each Sheaf A Little Yellow Sun, A Heap Of Hot-rayed Gold; Each Binder Like Creation's Hand To Mold Suns, As Of Old.

God Lead Us Past The Setting Of The Sun To Wizard Islands, Of August Surprise; God Make Our Blunders Wise.

Life Is A Loom, Weaving Illusion.

Mumbo-jumbo Will Hoo-doo You, Mumbo-jumbo Will Hoo-doo You. Mumbo . . . Jumbo . . . Will . . . Hoo-doo . . . You.