Take me somewhere west of Ireland where they know I’m not a spy,
Where nobody gazes at me with a cold, suspicious eye—
To the good old
U.S.A.
,
Where a gent can go his way
With no fear of being picked on forty thousand times a day.
Take me somewhere west of Ireland where they know I’m not a spy,
Where nobody gazes at me with a cold, suspicious eye—
To the good old
U.S.A.
,
Where a gent can go his way
With no fear of being picked on forty thousand times a day.