Give It Back to the Indians by Ella Fitzgerald Lyrics

Old Peter Minuit had nothing to lose when he bought the isle of Manhattan
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 Minuit
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 buses keeps 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!

Instrumental break

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!