Seven steps up from West Thirty-Fifth
To an old brownstone
Whose bulky genius wouldn’t work at all
If I left him on his own
Hoisting himself out of that custom chair
Only exercise he’ll get
Elevator to his orchids fair
So he doesn’t break a sweat
If it wasn’t for my needling
He’d have nothing much to do
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There’d be no you-know-who
Inspector Cramer in the big red chair
Chews on his unlit cigar
He swears someday he’s gonna get us both
But we all know he won’t get far
Theodore up in the orchid room
Saul and Fred and Fritz and me
Jump through hoops to suit his every whim
Best you’ll hear is ‘satisfactory’
If it wasn’t for my needling
He’d have nothing much to do
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There’d be no you-know-who
Never leaves the house on business
Unless some flummery’s afoot
Maybe a meal upstairs at Rustermann’s
But he’d prefer to just stay put
So I go out with Lily Rowan
Flamingo lays out quite a spread
Back home a snack is always waiting
Big glass of milk and off to bed
If it wasn’t for my needling
He’d have nothing much to do
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There’d be no you-know-who
They come in droves to hire the genius
But disappointed out they go
He seems impervious to needling
Unless the bank account is low
But when he finally takes an interest
He sits and thinks and thinks and sits
Lips pushing in and out with eyes closed
About as active as he gets
If it wasn’t for my needling
He’d have nothing much to do
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There’d be no you-know-who
“Please sit down; eyes at a level”
“Will you have a beer with me?”
He doesn’t stand, he won’t shake hands
The author’s name his physiognomy
I’ve put up with this enfant terrible
Forty years and maybe more
And through ’em all I’ve quit so many times
I’d love to even up the score
If it wasn’t for my needling
He’d have nothing much to do
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There’d be no you-know-who
If there was no Archie Goodwin
There’d be no you-know-who