An old sailor, in old time, would sing an old song:
Rolling down to Rio by the sea.
A young sailor, in these times, would sing a new song,
Flying down to Rio, come with me!
Where the lovely Brazilian ladies will catch your eye,
By the light of the million stars in the evening sky,
My Rio, Rio by the Sea-o,
Flying down to Rio where there's rhythm and rhyme.
Say feller, twirl that old propeller,
We've got to get to Rio and we've got to make time.
You'll love it, soaring high above it,
Looking down on Rio from a heaven of blue.
Send a radio to Rio de Janeiro,
With a big hello just so they'll know and stand by there,
We'll fly there.
My, Rio, ev'rything will be okay,
We're singing and winging our way to you.
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