Like a perfumed woman

The wind blows in the bunk house

Like a perfumed woman

Smellin' of where she's been

Smellin' of Oregon cherries

Or maybe Texas avocado

Or maybe Arizona sugar beet

The wind blows in

And she sings to me

'Cause I'm one of her ramblin' kin

She sings:

Joey, Joey, Joey

Joey, Joey, Joe

You've been too long in one place

And it's time to go, time to go!

Joey, Joey, Joey

Joey, travel on

You've been too long in one town

And the harvest time's come and gone

That's what the wind sings to me

When the bunk I've been bunkin' in

Gets to feelin' too soft and cozy

When the grub they've been cookin' me

Gets to tastin' too good

When I've had all I want

Of the ladies in the neighborhood

She sings:

Joey, Joey, Joey

Joey, Joey, Joe

You've been too long in one place

And it's time to go, time to go!

Joey, Joey, Joe!

(spoken)

Hey, boss, what's the Italian for a travel bag like this?

At's "valigia."

"Valigia," huh? Boy, I sure learned a lot of Italian from you. Lemme see now. Eh, compato. Yeah! Ho comprato un valigia... I mean, una belissima valigia. That's right!

Hey, hey Joe—

Ho comprato una belissima valigia. 

Hey, listen, Joe, listen.