Some come here prepared to fail, some with delusions of success
But no workmen's confidence.
They swarm the restaurants and with their swollen feet they over dramatize their beat.
After one year of bitchin’, they return to their home state with silken hands.
And for those who’ve been here for years working it and trying it,
Their hands show the rough, rugged course.
And in early fall when the sun hits the leaves just right,
Is when our tables house the rich Hamptonites.
Now pockets a little greener, our hearts a little younger,
We'll work through the slow and make bank with the flow.
I don’t mean to be crude and I don’t mean to be rude,
But if you put in the time she’ll give you wine.
We’ll keep up the heart until she shows us the next course to chart
And in truth we’ll jump with a child’s heart.
Ooooh, in truth we’ll jump with a child’s heart.
Ooooh, in truth we’ll jump with a child’s heart.
Ooooh, in truth we’ll jump with a child’s heart.
Ooooh, in truth we’ll jump with a child’s heart.
Ooooh, in truth we’ll jump with a child’s heart.