Our song. Because someone asked.

After one harmless crack about his "harem",  Mr. Funny Hat declared that the Vienna Boys Choir will NEVER sing "The Ballad of Smugglers' Inn".  Line forms  to the left, Papi.

The Ballad of Smugglers' Inn 

(To the tune of "Ho da fare un drama buffo" from Rossini's Il Turco en Italia) 

SINGER:  Our restaurant was, like, awesome, great.  Each night we served 200 plates, of lobster, shrimp and blackened steak.  Our bartenders scored like Penn State.  But that was 1978.  Oh, cry for SMUGGLERS’ INN! 

CHORUS: Smugglers’ Inn!  Smugglers, Inn!  Oh, glory days, where have you been?  You’d think that puffed sleeves weren’t in.  Oh,  cry for Smugglers’ Inn!

SINGER:  The take is off more every year.  Theme restaurants have grown passe’.  We keep the lights on, god knows how, but the chowder’s sometimes nas-tay.

CHORUS:  Smugglers Inn!  Smugglers Inn!  You might have died like Gunga Dinn.  But you didn’t know when to pack it.   'Da World don't need one more has-been.  You’re evicted, Smugglers’ Inn!

SINGER:  The end had come, we couldn’t doodle.  We had to sell kits and kaboodles.  We broke out a case of Boodles.  Martini-fueled, we wrote some ads.  To hawk our broiler, bar and dishes.  Plus some pretty fake stuffed fishes. 

Suck the corpse of Smugglerss’ Inn!  “Disco’s dead but we’ve kept its balls.” “Two hundred for a wine cooler?  We must be drunk.”

Our ads stood out in “Trading Times”, In “Business Trader”,  a sensation.  Then Conan reads some on Late Night, in front of the whole nation. 

“Who would have predicted?  To creativity we were now addicted.”

CHORUS:  Smuggler’s Inn!  Smugglers’ Inn!  From Surf ‘n Turf to new business wins.  The unlikliest agency that’s ever been!  And if we don’t run out gin, we’re bound to win a lion or at least a pin.   Hurray for Smugglers’ Inn!  God Bless America! 

VOICES (OUT):  “Let’s do lunch.”   “I’m Ramone, I’ll be your creative director…can I start you with a web page?”  “Ha-ha-ha!  You should be writing this…”