John and Tony swear this is the only song they sing with an accent.

When I die, bury me low,
Where I can hear the petroleum flow.
A sweeter sound I'll never know,
The rolling mills of New Jersey.

What's that smell, so rank and raucous?
Did somebody fart, or are we in Secaucus?
What's that aroma, that essence unknown?
Did you just blow lunch or are we in Bayonne?

In Trenton there is a bar
Where the bums come from near and from far.
They come by bus they come by car,
The lousy bums of New Jersey.

(Fill in these lines somebody, I'm unsure of them)
I wandered far from down town Bayonne,
So I sat down and I wrote this poem.
I wrote an ode (poem?) to New Jersey.