Give up the fond embrace,
Pass up that pretty face
You're of the human race --
But not in Boston.

Think as the neighbors think,
Make lemonade your drink
You'll be the Missing Link --
If you don't wear spats in Boston.

Painters who paint the nude
We keep repressing
We take the attitude
Even a salad must have dressing.

New York or Philadelph'
Won't put you on the shelf
If you would be yourself --
But you can't be yourself in Boston.

You can't be yourself
You can't be yourself
You can't be yourself
In Boston!

Don't speak the naked truth --
What's naked is uncouth
It may go in Duluth --
But not in Boston.

Keep up the cultured pose
Keep looking down your nose
Keep up the status quos --
Or you'll get nowhere in Boston.

Books that are out of key
We quickly bury
You will find liberty
In Mr. Webster's dictionary.

On Boston beans you dine
Then go to bed at nine
You mustn't undermine
The town of Boston

No song except a hymn
And keep your language prim
You call a leg a limb
Or they'll boot you out of Boston.

You're of the bourgeoisie,
And no one bothers --
Not if your fam'ly tree
Doesn't date from the Pilgrim Fathers.

Therefore, when all is said,
Life is so limit-ed,
You find, unless you're dead,
You never get ahead in Boston.
You never get ahead,
You never get ahead,
You never get ahead in Boston.

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): GEORGE GERSHWIN, IRA GERSHWIN