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, U.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 'cos 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.