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 But 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, he took a cruise He stuck his sea legs in those 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?