In ritzy Scranton,

The city "moaned" is nice and "hote":

The social scene is fraught with snares,

'Cause all the locals put on airs.

They've got a lion,

A social lion,

Whose clan arrived on some old boat;

Points his name out in Debrett's

Every God-damned chance that he gets.

They call him—

Blue-blooded Blanton,

The kingpin of Scranton,

The biggest snob in town;

Peacocks are proud, but Blanton's even prouder—

"Vishy-swahs" is what he calls leek chowder.

To cut 'em and snub 'em,

To out-country-club 'em

Is what he does all day.

He threw a little "swar-ee" just the other "swar"

And invited the "ay-leet"—but not the D.A.R.

He's blue-blooded Blanton,

The kingpin of Scranton,

P-A.

Blue-blooded Blanton,

The kingpin of Scranton,

The biggest snob in town;

Never catches cold—he wouldn't let a germ in;

Common colds are for the unwashed vermin.

To cut 'em and snub 'em,

To out-country-club 'em

Is what he does all day.

He doesn't wear a suit, he wears a "toot on-somb";

He can use a fingerbowl, and with complete aplomb;

He's blue-blooded Blanton,

The kingpin of Scranton,

P-A.

("Excuse my dust.")