[1st verse:]
|
Hiram Perkins sittin' by the fire
|
Talking to his wife
|
Hollered out, "Now look-a here, Maria
|
A farmer's life was never meant for our son
|
The boy is almost twenty-one
|
I've been closely watching him of late
|
And something's gotta be done"
|
|
[Refrain:]
|
He's getting too darn big for a small town
|
He ought to be in New York
|
He has seen a champagne cork
|
He's even eating with his fork
|
He knows at least a dozen of "troopers"
|
He's got a tie from Siegel and Cooper's
|
And his name stamped on the inside of his hat
|
Think-a that, think-a that!
|
Down there on Broadway is the place where he belongs
|
He knows "Bedelia" and the other latest songs
|
He's got a watch with an open crystal
|
And a walking cane with a pistol
|
He's getting too darn big for a one-horse town
|
|
[2nd verse:]
|
Hiram Perkins bought a railroad ticket
|
On the B. and O.
|
When they warned him New York town was wicked
|
He said, "I know, but then my boy can hold his own
|
Of late he's actin' too high-tone'
|
Why, he combs his hair three times a day
|
He even uses cologne"
|
|
-----------------
|
He's Getting Too Darn Big For A One-Horse Town
|
| Irving Berlin |
