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Manhattan Indian Song - Demo

Kurt Weill/Ira Gershwinhuatong
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We understand that in this land there is a tribe in Texas

that has no room for care or gloom or a problem that perplexes their medicine man says give

And brother, as I live, this icky folk, they sing and joke with curious reflexes.

It's not their glands.

They clap their hands deep in the heart of Texas.

Now this here tribe we don't subscribe to Texas Tribe conniptions

Our local medicine man worked out for this here clan the best of all prescriptions.

When troubles are too frightful, what makes the day delightful?

Manhattan.

When skies are gray and weepy, what brightens up the teepee?

Lo, lo, lo, lo, Manhattan.

It always run them, number one them, engine hit parade them.

The squaws all say no other way can engine serenade them.

More fun than tomahawking, it is to go a-squawking.

La la la la la la la la la Manhattan

It has a million uses.

It puts to sleep papooses.

Sinatra, bingo, dinah.

Can dig you nothing finer on slightest provocation.

We give out to the nation.

La, la, la, la, Manhattan.

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