It's nine hours by air
From Alaska to D.C.
And when you move there
How lonely it will be
There's no snowmobiling
In Maryland or Virginia
Just a cold rainy feeling
And darkness within you
Don't go, Todd.
You go to Washington, you'll feel like a clod
Tell Sarah, I can't fake it,
I'd feel naked and lonely and greasy
If I tried to make D.C.
Nine hours on a plane
To go out on the trail
Might as well wear a chain
Eat your food from a pail
You're a woodsman, Todd
Of the fisherman specie
With a reel and rod
Can't be happy in D.C.
Stay home, Todd.
Folks in Washington are definitely odd
Tell Sarah that you quit
You're an Alaskan and you got to be free
To holler and spit, which you can't in D.C.
In a big residence
With nothing to do
Behind a high fence
Like a moose in a zoo.
Like some lonely gorilla
With a banana for a pistol
Go back to Wasilla
With Levi and Bristol.
Stay home, Todd.
Stay in Alaska, the country of God
Tell Sarah it's no use
It's her path, she'll have to walk it
And the only moose in D.C. is chocolate