People, people everywhere, there in Union Square.
Some a buying, some a selling,
some a thieving and some a sunning,
my oh my, what a potpourri.
People tossing coins into the fountain,
one old man, the coins a taking.
Hustle, bustle, quite an ado.
What do you expect in New Yawk City?
Neck all stiff and sore,
looking up at the tall buildings.
People talk so funny,
is it Yankee jibberish?
Trash and garbage do abound,
no one cares about the mess,
But I guess it is to be expected
they all live in those tall buildings.
Country road, take me home,
back to the peace and quiet of the sticks.
I have come, I have seen,
never again do I care to return.
Union Square what the sight, oh what a big fright,
people coming, people a going,
me I just stand all agape,
wishing I was back in Bumfuzzle.