The Investigator's Song
(Harold Rome)

I've got a problem that is bothering me;
I've got a real unsolvable mystery;
It would stun G.K. Chesterton, Foil Conan Doyle,
Drive Sherlock Holmes to the wall;
Stump Humphrey Bogart and Bacall;

CHORUS:
Who's gonna investigate the man who investigates the man who investigates me?
I don't doubt my loyalty, But how about what his may be?
Who'll check the record of the man who checks the record of the man who checks the record of mine?
Seems to me there's gonna be an awfully long line.
One more problem puzzles me; Pardon my strange whim.
But who's gonna investigate the man who investigates the man who investigates him?

Who's gonna investigate the man who investigates the man who investigates me?
Maybe they won't like the face he's wearing;
Maybe he'll have too much brass.
Maybe he's a guy who's fond of herring;
Maybe he drinks tea from a glass.
Believe me, brother, that won't pass.
CHORUS

Who's gonna investigate the man who investigates the man who investigates me?
Maybe they won't like the books he's reading;
Or the way he wants to pray.
Maybe he won't have the proper breeding;
Maybe he ran T.V.A.
Believe me, brother, That's out-ray.
CHORUS

Who's gonna investigate the man who investigates the man who investigates me?
Maybe he's the kind does his own thinking;
Maybe tries to use his head.
Maybe he goes in for vodka drinking;
Maybe his corpuscles are red.
Believe me brother, Off with head.


Copyright 1947, by Harold Rome