I Like America

Girls: Tell us, sailor, Tell us, please, For we're terribly keen to know What it's like to be fancy free Footloose on the rolling sea? China girl chop-chop, Gay Maltese, Hot Mommas from Mexico- Harry: If you'll forgive a crude remark And don't resent a rude remark I'll let you into a secret- Girls: Well? Harry: They're all alike in the dark! Girls: There must have been Some place you've seen Superior to the rest? Harry: As a matter of fact With political tact I like America best. Girls: There's a good time a-comin on de ole plantation For a jolly Jack Tar Has just confessed The he likes America best! Verse 1 Harry: I don't care for China, Japan's far too small, I've rumbled the Rio Grande, I hate Asia Minor, I can't bear Bengal And I shudder to think Of the awful stink On the road to Samarkand. Harry: I like America, I have played around Every slappy-happy hunting ground But I find America-okay. I've been about a bit But I must admit That I didn't know the half of it Till I hit the U.S.A. No likely lass In Boston, Mass. From passion will recoil. In Dallas, Tex. They talk of sex But only think of oil. New Jersey dames Go up in flames If someone mentions-bed. In Chicago, Illinois Any girl who meets a boy Giggles and shoots him dead! But I like America Its Society Offers infinite variety And come what may I shall return some day To the good old U.S.A. Verse 2 Harry: I've loathed every acre From Cannes to Canton, I also deplore Bombay, I've jeered at Jamaica And seen through Ceylon, And exploded the myth Of those Flying Fith On the Road to Mandalay. Girls: We'll never mith Those blasted fith On the road to Mandalay. Harry: But I like America, I have traveled far From Northumberland to Zanzibar And I find America-okay. I've roamed the Spanish Main Eaten sugar-cane But I never tasted cellophane Till I struck the U.S.A. All delegates From Southern States Are nervy and distraught. In New Orleans The wrought-iron screens Are dreadfully overwrought. Beneath each tree In Tennessee Erotic books are read. And when alligators thud Through the Mississippi mud Sex rears its ugly head. But-I like America, Every scrap of it, All the sentimental crap of it And come what may Give me a holiday In the good old U.S.A.