The Monorail Song - The Simpsons

Well, sir, there’s nothing on earth

Like a genuine, bona fide

Electrified, six-car monorail

What’d I say?

Monorail

What’s it called?

Monorail

That’s right!

Monorail

Monorail

Monorail

Monorail

I hear those things are awfully loud

It glides as softly as a cloud

Is there a chance the track could bend?

Not on your life, my Hindu friend

What about us brain-dead slobs?

You’ll be given cushy jobs

Were you sent here by the Devil?

No, good sir, I’m on the level

The ring came off my pudding can

Take my pen knife, my good man

I swear it’s Springfield’s only choice

Throw up your hands and raise your voice

Monorail

What’s it called?

Monorail

Once again

Monorail

But Main Street’s still all cracked and broken

Sorry, Mom, the mob has spoken

Monorail!

Monorail!

Monorail!

Monorail!

Mono, d’oh!