As I wander out on the streets of New Brunswick
I head to the grease truck for a midnighting snack.
I wolf it on down and it troubles mine stomach.
And I think that I'm having a big heart attack.

So I head for the hospital called Robert Wood Johnson.
'Cause along with old Rutgers, J&J owns the town.
I tell them my symptoms, they say, "Oh, come on, son!"
It's just indigestion, so settle on down.

(It's just indigestion, so settle on down.)

I stayed overnight for some close observation.
And then they turned me loose on Somerset Street.
I'm now feeling better and I head for train station.
I'm drinking some coffee, and donuts I eat.

'Twas then that I heard, "Hey, can you spare a dollar?
I need cigarettes and some change for the food."
"Get out of my face, pal!" the bum heard me so holler.
"Keep smoking those things, and you'll really be screwed!"

(Keep smoking those things, and you'll really be screwed!)

The politics still in a city's machinery.
With construction contracts, they're very corrupt.
And at the State Theater, folks in their finery
get splattered by cabdrivers, very abrupt.

I'm nearly crashed into outside a fraternity.
You never did see such a soused-looking man.
They've been getting drunk there for about an eternity.
They're going to graduate on eight-year plan.

(They're going to graudate on eight-year plan.)

I passed by the women, Rutgers basketball players.
I said, "You showed Imus the meaning of class."
Our football team finally shuts up the naysayers.
Let's schedule Penn State, kick Paterno's...

Ask me what I like about this town, New Brunswick.
It might drive me crazy, but there's not far to go.
I can walk down the streets and not feel like a dumb hick
on the banks of the Raritan where many beers flow.

(On the banks of the Raritan where many beers flow.)