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No. 6 - Duet - Fanny, Chris and Girls - "In Posterland."

MIDI File

Chris: La la la la la la la.
Girls: La.
Contraltos: Do la sol sol fa, si si la do
la fa do si si la sol fa fa mi
la sol sol fa si si la do
la fa mi mi mi re do la si la sol do do fa.
Sopranos: Do do do do do do fa la do do
re do si do si sol mi sol do do re do si do la fa
fa si re re fa si re re do fa mi fa mi ra do
fa mi re mi fa sol la sol re do
mi re mi fa sol la sol re do
fa mi re do so do re sol do
do re mi fa sol la si do si sol
fa la do do re do si do si sol
mi sol do do re do si do la la
fa si re re fa si re re
do fa mi fa mi re do si do re mi fa
sol fa mi fa mi re do re do si la sol
fa mi re mi fa sol la la
sol re si la do re mi fa la do fa do la fa.
Chris: Very good! Keep it up!
Sopranos: Do fa la do do re do si do si sol
fa la do do re do si do.
Chris: My hope to wander through it
most absorbing and intense is
That land of High-Art Posters
that we see upon the fences!
To that far land could we but fly,
We'd happy be there, you and I,
For living in that blessed spot
a moderate expense is,
Therefore I beg, take heart and slip
the stern parental tether,
We'll wedded be and then depart
for Posterland together,
With cloudless hearts we e'er may stray,
Through many colored meadows gay,
With ecru trees that always bloom
in lemon colored weather.
Fanny: Ah, me!
Chris: Ah, me!
Sopranos: Ah, me!
Contraltos: Ah, me!
All: Ah, me!
Fanny & Chris: In Posterland! In Posterland!
Where skies are always red,
Where orange lambkins skip about
Without a tail or head,
Where trees like purple sponges look,
Where grass is always pink,
We'd walk beside a light-green brook,
While peach-blow thoughts we'd think.
Chris: Very good! Keep it up!
Sopranos: Do fa la do do re do si do si sol
fa la do do re do si do.
Fanny: The home of highly colored hopes
and rainbow-hued extenses,
That land of High-Art Posters that
we see upon the fences!
How fortunate indeed our fate,
Could we that mystic strand locate,
For to discover it a task imposing and immense is,
Vermillion cows are to this land
exclusively allotted,
The cats are all two-legged there,
the dogs are polka dotted.
The natives are the strangest crew
That ever pen or pencil drew,
The horses are the queerest things
that ever walked or trotted.
Chris: Ah, me!
Fanny: Ah, me!
Sopranos: Ah, me!
Contraltos: Ah, me!
All: Ah, me!
Fanny & Chris: In Posterland! In Posterland!
Where skies are always red,
Where orange lambkins skip about
Without a tail or head,
Where trees like purple sponges look,
Where grass is always pink,
We'd walk beside a light-green brook,
While peach-blow thoughts we'd think.
Sopranos: la do do re do si do la fa.
Fanny & Chris: Posterland.
Contraltos: la do do re do si do la la.
Fanny & Chris: Posterland.

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