Making fun of music, one song at a time. Since the year 2000.
Check out the two amIright misheard lyrics books including one book devoted to misheard lyrics of the 1980s.
Song Parodies -> "Last Bus to Toronto"
Original Song Title:
"City of New Orleans"
Original Performer:
Arlo Guthrie
Parody Song Title:
"Last Bus to Toronto"
Parody Written by:
Michael Pacholek
The Lyrics
In 1942, Howard K. Smith, later the anchor of ABC's evening news, wrote "Last Train from Berlin: An Eye-Witness Account of Germany at War," detailing his work from the Nazi capital for CBS radio. He had gotten out of the Reich on the last train that left Berlin before the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. As I write this at around 7:30 PM on January 19, 2017, the last bus that would leave New York City and arrive in Toronto before noon tomorrow, there are 5 seats left. The one before it is sold out. People really are fleeing America.
(instrumental opening)
Riding on the Last Bus to Toronto.
Port Authority, Thursday evening bail.
Fifty seats, all filled by restless riders.
Three rest stops, and hope to stay out of jail.
All along the northbound odyssey
the bus pulls across New Jersey
and rolls along through Lehigh Valley fields.
Passing towns with Indian names
Harry Chapin's banana plain
and the graveyards of rusted automobiles.
Goodbye, America, I'll miss ya.
Say, doncha know me? I'm your native son.
I'm the ride they call the Last Bus to Toronto.
I'll be gone 500 miles before my ride is done.
Checking e-mails before the Syracuse stop.
Dunkin Donuts, watch the lattes pour.
See the screen with CNN a-showin'
some stuff that makes our sad hearts hit the floor.
And the folks who wanted Bernie
and who worked for Hillary
get back on that smelly Greyhound made of steel.
Think when approach Buffalo
Trump's fans are like Juggalos:
They are psycho clowns, and fear is all we feel.
Goodbye, America, I'll miss ya.
Say, doncha know me? I'm your native son.
I'm the ride they call the Last Bus to Toronto.
I'll be gone 500 miles before my ride is done.
Morning on the Last Bus to Toronto.
Niagara Falls, it greets a brand-new day.
Almost home, we'll be there by lunchtime
as Customs men process us, to Queen Elizabeth Way.
But all the folks left behind seem
to be stuck in a bad dream.
The Deplorables still ain't heard the news:
The jobs you lost will not return.
The wall won't halt the ozone burn.
Our land's got the disappearing freedom blues!
Goodbye, America, I'll miss ya.
Say, doncha know me? I'm your native son.
I'm the ride they call the Last Bus to Toronto.
I'll be gone 500 miles before my ride is done.
(instrumental fadeout)
Riding on the Last Bus to Toronto.
Port Authority, Thursday evening bail.
Fifty seats, all filled by restless riders.
Three rest stops, and hope to stay out of jail.
All along the northbound odyssey
the bus pulls across New Jersey
and rolls along through Lehigh Valley fields.
Passing towns with Indian names
Harry Chapin's banana plain
and the graveyards of rusted automobiles.
Goodbye, America, I'll miss ya.
Say, doncha know me? I'm your native son.
I'm the ride they call the Last Bus to Toronto.
I'll be gone 500 miles before my ride is done.
Checking e-mails before the Syracuse stop.
Dunkin Donuts, watch the lattes pour.
See the screen with CNN a-showin'
some stuff that makes our sad hearts hit the floor.
And the folks who wanted Bernie
and who worked for Hillary
get back on that smelly Greyhound made of steel.
Think when approach Buffalo
Trump's fans are like Juggalos:
They are psycho clowns, and fear is all we feel.
Goodbye, America, I'll miss ya.
Say, doncha know me? I'm your native son.
I'm the ride they call the Last Bus to Toronto.
I'll be gone 500 miles before my ride is done.
Morning on the Last Bus to Toronto.
Niagara Falls, it greets a brand-new day.
Almost home, we'll be there by lunchtime
as Customs men process us, to Queen Elizabeth Way.
But all the folks left behind seem
to be stuck in a bad dream.
The Deplorables still ain't heard the news:
The jobs you lost will not return.
The wall won't halt the ozone burn.
Our land's got the disappearing freedom blues!
Goodbye, America, I'll miss ya.
Say, doncha know me? I'm your native son.
I'm the ride they call the Last Bus to Toronto.
I'll be gone 500 miles before my ride is done.
(instrumental fadeout)
Your Vote & Comment Counts
The parody authors spend a lot of time writing parodies for the website and they appreciate feedback in the form of votes and comments. Please take some time to leave a comment below about this parody.
Place Your Vote |
Voting Results
| ||||||||||||||||||
Voting Breakdown
The following represent how many people voted for each category.
| Pacing | How Funny | Overall Rating | |||||||||
| 1 | 13 | 13 | 13 | ||||||||
| 2 | 0 | 0 | 0 | ||||||||
| 3 | 0 | 0 | 0 | ||||||||
| 4 | 0 | 0 | 0 | ||||||||
| 5 | 5 | 5 | 5 |
User Comments
Comments are subject to review, and can be removed by the administration of the site at any time and for any reason.
Canada shares the same ozone we breathe. The sat thing is that a US citizen can no longer travel freely to Canada without permission from the US government (passport). That wall went up long before Trump. Trump will try to save money on the wall by hiring illegal Mexicans to build it.
Only know the chorus from TOS, in any case this is a good write and a good read
Promises, promises!
How can I miss you when you won't go away?
Don't you know that Michael is a true Democrat? All talk and no action!
Michael lives in New Jersey. That is punishment enough for anyone.
The author of the parody has authorized comments, and wants YOUR feedback.
Link To This Page
The address of this page is: http://www.amiright.com/parody/70s/arloguthrie8.shtml For help, see the examples of how to link to this page.
This is view # 1274
