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♫ I used to pitch camp ♫
♫ in any-old car, ♫
♫ but that calculation was, sadly, unwise; ♫
♫ for the cars at the ends ♫
♫ were (I'm sad to say) Men's, ♫
♫ and in Two, well I couldn't tell gals from the guys. ♫]]>
♫ How was I to find "Mrs. Kim" ♫]]>
♫ when I couldn't tell her...from him? ♫]]>
♪ But─in─the─ ♪
♪ Third Car, Seventh Row, ♪
♪ left-side benches, aisle seat; ♪
♪ The babes are arresting, their bodies sublime, ♪
♪ Their figures are rounded, their numbers are prime ♪
♪ and in the Third Car, Seventh Row, ♪
breast: ♪]]>
♪ Each day I'm near 'em supports my theorem: ♪
♪ The gals in the Third are best. ♪
♫ But my plan was half-cocked, ♫
♫ for I'd plop down to roost ♫
***-eyes would see; ♫]]>
♫ Chicks would board, by the score, ♫
♫ plucking seats by the door, ♫
♫ but would they pluck Door Number One, Two, or Three? ♫
♫ Attending each face was a feat: ♫
♫ I'd need eyes in the back of old "Pete." ♫
♪ But in the Third Car, Seventh Row, ♪
♪ Left-side benches, aisle seat, ♪
♪ The view is arresting, the angle sublime; ♪
♪ I could give 'em the eyeball, two balls at a time. ♪
♪ And in the Third Car, Seventh Row, ♪
♪ I survey end-to-end; ♪
♪ The view is piquent, where tangent secant, ♪
♪ and cosine are your best friend! ♪
Yoo-hoo!
Right here! Hello! Yeah! Woo-hoo! Wow! Go, Baby!
♪ 'Cause in the Third Car, Seventh Row, ♪
♪ I've a front-row seat at the show; ♪
♪ It's a choice location, for my vocation, ♪
♪ A geometric wonder─ ♪
♪ Pythagorean plunder─ ♪
♪ in the Third─Car─Left─Bench─Aisle─Seat─ ♪
(He plops into the lap of a female rider.)]]>
(The girls laugh.)]]>
(The girls laugh.)]]>
(laughs) You certainly do now. (All laugh.)]]>