no chocolate in the duty free shop

two drops of scotch

gonna end up on his crotch, tonight

all alone, sitting on the throne

some native tounge on the TV

blaring like an old Peavey

he don't aim to be rude

he's fighting with his inner prude

some pommes frites and you know

it's gonna drip on to his lap

yes, see the man slapping it off

travellin' will do him in

trudging through the waves of people

'till his heart is cluttered and feeble

if you take him out of this loop

he may be very easily duped

still he beats the stampede for the duty free

he's using up all that old currency

he's using up all that old currency

he's using up all that old currency