Mutley, you snickering, floppy eared hound. When courage is needed, you’re never around. Those medals you wear on your moth-eaten chest should be there for bungling at which you are best. So, stop that pigeon, stop that pigeon, stop that pigeon, stop that pigeon, stop that pigeon, stop that pigeon, stop that pigeon. Howwww! Nab him, jab him, tab him, grab him, stop that pigeon now.
Children of the sun, see your time has just begun, searching for your ways, through adventures every day. Every day and night, with the condor in flight, with all your friends in tow, you search for the Cities of Gold. Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah… wishing for The Cities of Gold. Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah… some day we will find The Cities of Gold. Do-do-do-do ah-ah-ah, do-do-do-do, Cities of Gold. Do-do-do-do, Cities of Gold. Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah… some day we will find The Cities of Gold.
Hey there where ya goin’, not exactly knowin’, who says you have to call just one place home. He’s goin’ everywhere, B.J. McKay and his best friend Bear. He just keeps on movin’, ladies keep improvin’, every day is better than the last. New dreams and better scenes, and best of all I don’t pay property tax. Rollin’ down to Dallas, who’s providin’ my palace, off to New Orleans or who knows where. Places new and ladies, too, I’m B.J. McKay and this is my best friend Bear.