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The Moss-Covered Planet By WALT MASON (Air- "The Old Oaken Bucket") How sorry I feel for that little old planet Away down below, with its sore-footed crowds! My sympathies rise in a flood as I scan it And think of its woes, from my perch in the clouds! There men go on foot with their shoes full of gravel, And always are tired from the day of their birth; No comfort is there and no safety in travel, On that poor old planet they call Mother Earth. That back-number planet, that moss-covered planet, That stand-patter planet they call Mother Earth. Men ride behind engines which blow up their boilers, They ride behind horses which rear up and tear; They junket in autos which run over toilers, RG And cover with corpses the broad thoroughfare. They live in the midst of commotion and riot, And run for the surgeon for all they are worth; They know not the aeroplane's safety and quiet, On that fierce old planet they call Mother Earth. That moss-covered planet, that old rough-house planet, That violent planet they call Mother Earth!

Document source description

This file contains poems about polar explorers, as well as North and South Pole expeditions.

Page data

Page
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Document data

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Context sent to Scholar

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    "ocrText": "The Moss-Covered Planet\nBy WALT MASON\n(Air- \"The Old Oaken Bucket\")\nHow sorry I feel for that little old planet\nAway down below, with its sore-footed crowds!\nMy sympathies rise in a flood as I scan it\nAnd think of its woes, from my perch in the clouds!\nThere men go on foot with their shoes full of gravel,\nAnd always are tired from the day of their birth;\nNo comfort is there and no safety in travel,\nOn that poor old planet they call Mother Earth.\nThat back-number planet, that moss-covered planet,\nThat stand-patter planet they call Mother Earth.\nMen ride behind engines which blow up their boilers,\nThey ride behind horses which rear up and tear;\nThey junket in autos which run over toilers,\nRG\nAnd cover with corpses the broad thoroughfare.\nThey live in the midst of commotion and riot,\nAnd run for the surgeon for all they are worth;\nThey know not the aeroplane's safety and quiet,\nOn that fierce old planet they call Mother Earth.\nThat moss-covered planet, that old rough-house planet,\nThat violent planet they call Mother Earth!"
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