CHORUS:
When I die, bury me low, where I can hear the petroleum flow,
A sweeter sound, you never will know, the rolling mills of
New Jersey.
In Hoboken, there will be, trash as far as the eye can see,
Enough for you, enough for me, the garbage cans of New
Jersey.
(chorus)
{The last line of the chorus will always be the last line of the
Verse, e.g. «A sweeter sound you never will hear, the garbage
Cans of New Jersey»}
Down in Trenton, there is a bar, where the bums come from near
And from far,
They come truck, they come by car, the lousy bums of New Jersey.
(chorus)
When first I started to roam, I travelled far away from Bayonne,
Then I sat down and wrote this poem, I wrote an ode to New
Jersey.
(chorus)
