SOMEBODY`S little girl-how easy to make a sob story over who she was once and who she is now. Somebody`s little girl-she played once under a crab-apple tree in June and the blossoms fell on the dark hair. It was somewhere on the Erie line and the town was Salamanca or Painted Post or Horse`s Head. And out of her hair she shook the blossoms and went into the house and her mother washed her face and her mother had an ache in her heart at a rebel voice, "I don`t want to." Somebody`s little girl-forty little girls of somebodies splashed in red tights forming horseshoes, arches, pyramids-forty little show girls, ponies, squabs. How easy a sob story over who she once was and who she is now-and how the crabapple blossoms fell on her dark hair in June. Let the lights of Broadway spangle and splatter-and the taxis hustle the crowds away when the show is over and the street goes dark. Let the girls wash off the paint and go for their midnight sandwiches-let `em dream in the morning sun, late in the morning, long after the morning papers and the milk wagons- Let `em dream long as they want to ... of June somewhere on the Erie line ... and crabapple blossoms.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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