Here ya go, Harry. Sung by Frank Crumit (about 1930) but I don't know if he wrote it......Tiger

Song Of The Prune
As performed by Frank Crumit

(la la la la la, la la la la la)

Nowadays, we often gaze on women over fifty,
Without the slightest trace of wrinkles on their face.
Doctors go and take their dough to make them young and nifty,
But doctors, I defy, to tell me just why.....

No matter how young a prune may be, it's always full of wrinkles.
We may get them on our face; prunes get 'em every place.
Prohibition worries us, but prunes don't sit and brood,
For no matter how young a prune may be, it's always getting stewed.

In the kingdom of the fruits, the prune is snubbed by others,
And they are not allowed to mingle with the crowd.
Though they're never on display with all their highbrow brothers,
They never seem to mind, to this fact they're resigned.....

No matter how young a prune may be, it's always full of wrinkles.
Beauty treatments always fail; they've tried all, to no avail.
Other fruits are envious, because they know real well,
That no matter how young a prune may be, hot water makes 'em swell.

INSTRUMENTAL BREAK

Baby prunes look like their dads, but not wrinkled quite as bad.

Every day, in every way, the world is getting better.
We've even learned to fly, as days go passing by.
But, what about the poor old prune? His life is only wetter.
No wonder he can't grin, in the awful stew he's in.

No matter how young a prune may be, it's always full of wrinkles.
We may get them on our face; prunes get 'em every place.
Nothing ever worries them, their life's an open book,
But no matter how young a prune may be, it has a worried look.

INSTRUMENTAL BREAK

Prunes act very kind, they say, when sickly people moan,
But no matter how young a prune may be, it has a heart of stone.