Owl Jolson: I love to singa / About the moon-a and the June-a and the spring-a / I love to singa / About a sky of blue-a or a tea for two-a / Anything with a swinga to an I love you-a / I love to, I love to sing. Father:
Enough is too much! Out of my house, you hotcha! You crooner! You falsetto! You jazz singer! You... you... you...
[Closes door; then opens it again] Father: Phooey! Radio: Calling all cars. Calling all cars. Report to your stations for further instructions. That is all. Mother: I wonder if they found my little boy? Radio: No we didn't, lady.