I left Garden City, Kansas, with a ticket and a yen to see New York

I type eighty words a minute, so your corporation let me go to work

I fetch paper clips and coffee, even help you dodge your domineering wife

Mr. Walker, it's all over; I don't like the New York secretary's life

In this building, there's a crowd of guys with old familiar thoughts upon their minds

Yeah, and that's a lot of hands a-reachin' out to grab the things that I consider mine

And the President pursues me, even though he's old and the hair a-turnin' white

Mr. Walker, it's all over; I don't like the New York secretary's life

There's a flat in Greenwich Village that I took because the subway wasn't far

Yeah, but there's a trumpet player upstairs and below me, there's a jumpin' all-night bar

And to frost a bitter cake, I have to share the place with bugs and big ole mice

Mr. Walker, it's all over; I don't like the New York secretary's life

Your sweetheart in personnel said I should give her written notice, like the rest

So I wrote "goodbye" with my brightest lipstick right across her big, expensive desk

You'd better call the Times and tell 'em put your wanted ad right back in classified

Mr. Walker, it's all over; I don't like the New York secretary's life

Well, there's a Greyhound at the station and a mom at home with open arms for me

Yeah, and Garden City's lookin' better every minute now, since I have learned to see

And the boy next door don't know it, but come June he's gonna gain himself a wife

Mr. Walker, it's all over; I don't like the New York secretary's life

Yeah, Mr. Walker, it's all over; I don't like the New York secretary's life

Mr. Walker, it's all over; I don't like the New York secretary's life