I Like America Lyrics - Noël Coward

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! 

Verse 1 

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. 

Verse 2 

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.