It's not the Isle of Capri that is calling to me,
It's not the balmy breeze or cerulian seas -
I'ts a little old man in a big black hat,
In a little kibbutz in the desert.

It's not feathery trees 'gainst multicolored clear skies,
Nor those Sabra guys with their limpid, dark eyes -
I'ts a little old man in a big black hat,
In a little kibbutz in the desert.

Through meshugge Israel -
He's chachem and schleppin' the Law.
It's not so hard to tell,
That Rebbe is the mensh of them all.

I'll be leaving soon for the land that is mine -
It's not the desert sun or the dates and the wine -
I'ts a little old man in a big black hat -
In a little kibbutz in the desert -
Mein Yiddisher Tata -
In a little kibbutz in the desert.
It's a little old man in a big black hat -
In a little kibbutz in the desert -
He might be Elvis -
In a little kibbutz in the desert.