Forty Eight Twenty Three Twenty Second Street      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