Giupetto! Pinnochio,
your adopted son is getting ready to go
the candle wicks are asterisks
you carved him yourself out of sticks

a propos, had to go,
he loved the alps,
but he hated the snow
things switch,
chop a new niche
soon you won't remember
oh which one is which

your sorrow is so silly,
what's there to keep him in Italy?
what's there to keep him in Italy?

he'll send you news
how he took a cruise
stuck his sea legs in the sailor shoes
and finally, across some sea,
finding himself all kinds of the finery

but he took a week to learn how to speak
but the language hurts,
yeah, the consonants tweak
mute malaise, heavy haze,
the reparations only partly pays.

but your sorrow is so silly,
what's there to keep him in Italy?
what's there to keep him in Italy?