Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Why do the Wrong People Travel?, artist - Elaine Stritch.
Date of issue: 24.05.2012
Song language: English
Why do the Wrong People Travel? |
Travel they say improves the mind, |
An irritating platitude, which frankly, entrenous, |
Is very far from true. |
Personally I’ve yet to find that longtitude and latitude |
can educate those scores of monumental bores |
Who travel in groups and herds and troupes |
Of varying breeds and sexes |
Till the whole world reels… |
to shouts and squeals… |
And the clicking of Roliflexes. |
Why do the wrong people travel, travel, travel |
When the right people stay back home? |
What compulsion compels them |
and who the hell tells them |
To drag their cans to Zanzibar, |
instead of staying quietly in Omaha. |
The Taj Mahal and the Grand Canal |
And the sunny French Rivera |
Would be less oppressed if the Middle West |
Would settle for somewhere rather nearer. |
Please do not think that I criticize or cavel |
at a genuine urge to roam. |
But why, oh why, do the wrong people travel |
when the right people stay back home |
And mind their business |
when the right people stay back home |
And eat hot doughnuts |
when the right people stay back home |
I sometimes wonder |
why the right people stay back home. |
Just when you think romance is ripe it rather sharply dawns on you |
That each sweet serenade is for the tourist trade |
Any attractive native type who resolutely fawns on you |
Will give as his address American Express |
There isn’t a rock between Bangkok and the beaches of His---pianola |
That does not recoil from suntan oil and the gurgle of Coca-Cola |
Why do the wrong people travel, travel, travel |
When the right people stay back home? |
What explains this mass mania to leave Pennsylvania |
And clack around like flocks of geese. |
Demanding dry martinis on the isles of Greece |
In the smallest street, where the gourmets meet, |
They invariably fetch up And it’s hard to make them accept a steak |
that isn’t served rare and smeared with ketchup. |
Millions of tourists are churning up the gravel |
While they gaze at St. Peter’s Dome, |
But why, oh why do the wrong people travel when the right people stay back home |
with Cinerama |
when the right people stay back home |
with all that Kleenex |
when the right people stay back home |
I merely asking |
why the right people stay back home |
What peculiar obsessions inspire those processions |
Of families from Houston Tex |
with all those cameras around their necks? |
They will take a train |
Or an aeroplane |
For an hour on the Costa Brava, |
And they’ll see Pompeii |
On the only day |
When it’s up to its ass in molten lava! |
It would take years to unravel, ravel, ravel |
Every impulse that makes them wanna roam. |
But why oh WHY do the wrong people travel |
When the right people stay at home." |
and Yogie Bear-O |
when the right people stay back home |
won’t someone tell me why the right people stay back home. |