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.