Our first stop is in Bogota To check Columbian fields The natives smile and pass along A sample of their yield Sweet Jamaican pipe dreams Golden Acapulco nights Then Morocco, and the East, Fly by morning light
We're on the train to Bangkok Aboard the Thailand Express We'll hit the stops along the way We only stop for the best
Wreathed in smoke in Lebanon We burn the midnight oil The fragrance of Afghanistan Rewards a long day's toil Pulling into Katmandu Smoke rings fill the air Perfumed by a Nepal night The Express gets you there