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Old Peter Minuet had nothing to lose when he bought the isle of Manhatten
For twenty six dollars and a bottle of booze and they threw in the Bronx and Staten
Pete thought that he had the best of the bargin but the poor red man just grinned
And he grunted ugh meaning okay in his jargon for he knew poor Pete was skinned
We've tried to run the city but the city ran away
And now Peter Minuet
We can't continue it

Broadway's turning into Coney
Champagne Charlie's drinking gin
Old New York is new and phony
Give it back to the Indians

Two cents more to smoke a Lucky
Dodging busses keep you thin
Now New York is simply ducky
Give it back to the Indians

Take all the reds, on the boxes made for soap
Whites on Fifth Avenue
Blues down in Wall Street losing hope
Big bargain today Chief take it away

Come you busted city slickers
Better take it on the chin
Father Nick has lost his knickers
Give it back to the Indians

Take all the reds, on the boxes made for soap
Whites on Fifth Avenue
Blues down in Wall Street losing hope
Big bargain today Chief take it away

Come you busted city slickers
Better take it on the chin
Father Nick has lost his knickers
Give it back to the Indians