Lyrics

Every year I drive out to Cape Cod for the last part of June.Leave the city by ten and you're there in the late afternoon.On the way there's a village called Marion that you pass through.The first time I approached it, I'll always remember the sign that came into view.
It said, "Entering Marion."  And I thought, "What a fun little sign!"But the feeling of entering Marion Had a kick that was hard to define... A rapturous rush, a physical flush, Chills up and down the spine. For the few minutes I was in Marion All Massachusetts was mine.
(spoken) Well, it got to be kind of an annual thing...the event that would start each vacation off with a bang!
Then one year--who knows why?--I decided to try a new route. So I got out my map and I traced one I thought was a beaut. After driving all morning, I came to the top of a hill, Where a sign stood before me that promised a new kind of thrill.
It said, "Entering Beverly," Which was lovely and not overbuilt. And the pleasure of entering Beverly Far outweighed any feelings of guilt. I could say I'm contrite but it wouldn't be right, For the truth is that later that day, I found myself entering Sharon. It was there. So was I. We enjoyed it.Hey, what can I say?
By the next year I'd try any route, just for novelty's sake. I was cursed with a thirst that no single township could slake. Oh, at the wheel I looked calm but inside I was running amok, When a sign in the road dead ahead sent me straight into shock:
"Entering Lawrence."  My God! I was out of control. And I'd no sooner finished with Lawrence Than Boom! I was entering Lowell.Then I backtracked and re-entered Lawrence, Then Quincy and Norton as well. Around midnight I pulled into Athol And flopped in a fleabag motel.
I slept fitfully in my clothing And awoke in a pool of sweat and self-loathing. Lying there, feeling lower than carrion, A name came clear as a clarion. I jumped in my car And before very far--
I was entering Marion. How totally, wonderfully great! How grand to be entering Marion After tramping all over the state. Every sleaze-bucket burb, Every tryst by the curb Had really just helped me to find I'm happiest entering Marion. I guess I'm the Marion kind. Oh yes, I'm the Marion kind.