By Roy Hodge
Out of nowhere a couple of weeks ago, I thought of an old song that my mother sang to me over 50 years ago. It was a new song then, sung by Bing Crosby, and probably on the hit parade.
I clearly remember the song’s title: “Swinging on a Star,” and many of the words. When I remembered that song, I started singing it and I still am.
“Would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar and be better off than you are … ?”
The lyrics go on, asking if I would rather be a mule — an animal with long, funny ears; a pig — an animal with dirt on his face, whose shoes are a terrible disgrace; a fish — who won’t do anything but swim in a brook; or a monkey — they’re not all in the zoo — every day you see quite a few.
I think I remember my mother and myself singing that song during much of a trip to Ohio to visit relatives when I was about 6. I discovered that it’s one of those songs that all of a sudden you remember, and then you have a hard time getting it out of your mind.
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