Well we're all packed up and we're Iroquois bound,
Tuning our ears for the F. M. Sound.
We got a million problems, we're on our way,
44th, New York, you. S. A.
That big crazy city don't blink an eye,
Anytime we pass by.
It just keeps strechting up so high,
Like a rocket, shooting, to the sky.
Iroquois! Iroquois!
Special Branch got their feelers out,
Our names and addresses cause we're in doubt.
Down the corridor, keep in lane,
Find the worst seats on the plane.
Find a tacky statue three inches high,
Dirty rain falls from a dirty sky.
On the corner of the street there's a big black fella'..
Trying to sell me an umberalla.
Get the Kraut boys round for a smoke an' a beer,
There's gotta be a pizza delivery near.
Call the barf patrol, there's a stain on the floor,
A weeks P. D's for the bathroom floor.
