Lyrics

Now they’re making movies in old black and white
With happy endings, where nobody fights
So if you find yourself in that nostalgic rage
Honey, jump right up and show your age

I wish I had a pencil thin mustache
The “Boston Blackie” kind, or a
Two-toned Ricky Ricardo jacket
And an autographed picture of Andy Divine

Oh, I remember bein’ buck toothed and skinny
Writin’ fan letters to Sky’s niece Penny
Oh, I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache
Then I could solve some mysteries too

Oh it’s Bandstand, Disneyland, growin up fast
Drinkin’ on a fake I.D.
And Rama of the jungle was everyone’s Bawana
But only jazz musicians were smokin marijuana
Yeah, I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache
Then I could solve some mysteries too

Ah Yeah Fing!

But then it’s flat-top, dirty bop, copin’ a feel’
Grubbin on the living room floor
They send you off to college to try to gain
A little knowledge
But all you want to do is learn how to score
Yeah, but now I’m gettin’ old, don’t wear underwear
I don’t go to church, but I did cut my hair
But I can go to movies and see it all there
Just the way that it use to be

That’s why I wish I had a pencil-thin mustache
The “Boston Blackie” kind, or a
Two-toned Ricky Ricardo jacket
And an autographed picture of Andy Divine

Oh, I could be anyone I wanted to be
Maybe suave Eerol Flynn or the Sheik of Araby
If I only had a pencil-thin mustache
Then I could do some cruising too

Yeah, Brylcream, a little dab’ll do ya
Oh, I could do some crusing too