Lyrics I Like America (Ace Of Clubs) - Noël Coward

I Like America (Ace Of Clubs)

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!
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
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