Word: clip-clopped
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...Gouffé Case, by Joachim Maass. The clip-clop of hansoms and the sighs of lovelorn dandies provide mood music for this period murder tale...
Topping last week's bestseller list was Mr. Sandman (Cadence), featuring the piping voices of the Chordettes, beginning with chime effects ("bum, bum, bum, bum") and paced by the clip-clop sounds of Archie Bleyer slapping his knees. Sample Mr. Sandman lyric: "Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci, and lots of wavy hair like Liberace." No. 4 bestseller: Teach Me Tonight (Abbott), with the DeCastro Sisters in a twangy, eagerly enunciated request for seduction. The melody is in the contralto, while the other girls warble country-alto above. No. 11 but climbing fast: The Naughty Lady of Shady...
...rhythmic clip-clop of hoofs tapping down Roosevelt Raceway's brown half-mile oval was smothered by a swelling roar from the stands as the six-horse field came into the final turn. With less than a quarter-mile to go, a fast-stepping brown mare named Proximity, unbeaten in her five starts this year, had not made a move out of her third-place rut along the rail...
Lily Sue. "Maw, if yer never prayed before, pray now, while I ride to save 'Duke' from the drunken lynchers." Clip-clop, clip- clop-the heroine's off-stage horse arrives in time for a happy ending. The popularity of the cowboy thriller is revived by Willard Mack, dean of melodramatists. Hokum it is, and oldfashioned, but, none the less, it keeps the onlooker clutching, crinkling his program throughout. Beth Merrill, who looks like Jeanne Eagels, plays the gawky pride of the prairies, rolls out her pointed conversation with a pleasant, if not authentic, Western drawl...
...education in the U. S. in the last 25 years, improved methods of teaching, medical education of the public, etc. At last someone asked the question : "Why are the doctors leaving the country? Where is the rural practitioner?" The discussion ambled along; listeners caught, in its labored periods, the clip-clop of slow hoofs, the rattle of a dry axle, saw, in the rutted lane of the imagination, a buggy swaying along with reins pulling slack from the hands of a threadbare, weary man who followed where his nag took him- down the lane, away from the sombre fields...