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Artiste: Frank Crumit
Titre: Song of the Prune

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La-la-la-la
La-la-la-la
Nowadays we often gaze 
On women over fifty
Without the slightest trace 
Of wrinkles on their face
Doctors go and take their dough 
To make them young and nifty
But Doctors I defy
To tell me just why
No matter how young a prune may be
It's always full of wrinkles
We may get them on our face
Prunes get 'em every place
Prohibition worries us
But prunes don't sit and brood
For no matter how young a prune may be
It's always getting stewed

In the kingdom of the fruits
The prune is snubbed by others
And they are not allowed
To mingle with the crowd
Though they're never on display
With all their highbrow brothers
They never seem to mind
To this fact they're resigned
That no matter how young a prune may be
It's always full of wrinkles
Beauty treatments always fail
They've tried all to no avail
Other fruits are envious
Because they know real well
That no matter how young a prune may be
Hot water makes 'em swell

Baby prunes look like their dad
But not wrinkled quite as bad

Every day in every way
The world is getting better
We've even learned to fly
As days go passing by
But how about the poor old prune
His life is only wetter
No wonder he can't win
In the awful stew he's in
No matter how young a prune may be
He's always full of wrinkles
We may get them on our face
Prunes get 'em every place
Nothing ever worries them
Their life's an open book
But no matter how young a prune may be
It has a worried look

Prunes act very kind they say
When sickly people moan
But no matter how young a prune may be
It has a heart of stone