Forty-Eight Twenty-Three Twenty-Second St.

Now, as for my aunt
 Who told on me
 She was always wearing her turbans
 Sailing back to Greece on the Normandy
 Having dinner at the captain's table
 Sitting on the deck with 5 men surrounding her
 With uncle Sam in the back row
 Back at home, riding up the Taygetus on a donkey named David
 With her soft leather boots dangling off to the side
 So full of pride
 So full of pride.
 Profitis Elias, so high you can see us
 4823 22nd St., standing there with cashmere overcoats
 And those turbans with their Arabian silver
 And ostrich and papagou feather hats
 And not far down from our koumbaros Betinis
 We've got a secret between us Betinis
 In the back of the Hawthorne smoke shop
 In the basement of the hat factory
 The fedoras got glued together
 But in that back basement...
 In that back basement, a lot of things got sewn up!
 A full compliment of grinchy Italians
 Counting up on their stubby fingers, and smoking, I'm told
 The least sophisticated cigars
 The local lottery and so forth
 Like anybody was going to get a nit out of that nut
 Though what a lucky loser is our five thousand dollars a day friend and koumbaros Betinis
 We've got a secret between us, Betinis
 In the back of the Hawthorne smoke shop,
 Haberdashery was the least of it
 In the basement of the hat factory
 The fedoras got glued together
 But in that back basement...
 In that back basement, a lot of things got sewn up
 We've got a secret between us, Betinis.
 Five thousand dollars a day
 Five thousand dollars a day
 Five thousand dollars a day
 Five thousand dollars a day
 In the basement of the hat factory
 The fedoras got glued together
 But in that back basement
 In that back basement, a lot of things got sewn up!
 We've got a secret between us, Betinis
 Not that nobody knows, like nobody knows about the white doves that flew out the cake at the brother's wedding
 In your hat factory, Betinis, they count up all the buffalo nickels
 And silver certificates wrung from Lake Superior spirits
 And prize fight foolery, and sluts speaking easy in the closets on 12th St.
 And in exchange you put in your pants $5, 000 a day to stick under your bed for starters
 But later in the laundry, so you can feel free to chase your wife around the table
 When you feel she looked at the apricot and boysenberry boy twice