Oh, poor Ignatius Reilly in his great green hunting cap
You can’t mistake his trademark headpiece pulled down at the flaps
For it’s in the heart of New Orleans
The setting of egregious scenes
That are all caused by one Ignatius Reilly
Superbly ill-adjusted to the Crescent City’s mores
And pompously he denigrates debauchery and whores
Opposed to every form of sex
But sometimes dreams of his late dog Rex
And a great dilemma tears at I. J. Reilly
There’s no employer who meets his gargantuan demands
In factories and weenie vending he wins no new fans
For each attempt at mutiny
Is met with sad hilarity
It’s the fault of no one, save that madman Reilly
Mendacious! Rapacious! Pugnacious! Ignatius!
Audacious! Loquacious! Good gracious! Ignatius!
To leave New Orleans makes him ill, don’t get him on a bus
Upsetting him in any way just might make him combust
Theatrical and paranoid
That troubled valve he can’t avoid
What a hypochondriac is Mister Reilly
Strippers, cops, and ne’er-do-wells get caught up in his drama
Party hosts and pinup bigots likewise meet their trauma
So many players intertwined
By one unwitting mastermind
Oh, the scheming, slovenly buffoon is Reilly
Now our Big Easy prides itself upon its many quirks
It often shrugs good-naturedly when systems go berzerk
And it’s on Canal Street you can see
Where the D.H. Holmes clock used to be
Immortalized in bronze: Ignatius Reilly!
Mendacious! Rapacious! Pugnacious! Ignatius!
Audacious! Loquacious! Good gracious! Ignatius!