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The Rolling Mills of New Jersey 
The Rolling Mills of New Jersey (Roberts and Barrand)
 When I die, bury me low Where I can hear the petroleum flow. A sweeter sound, I never did know The rolling mills of New Jersey. 
Down in Trenton, there is a bar The bums, they come from near and from far They come by truck, they come by car The lousy bums of New Jersey 
Down in Hoboken, there will be Garbage as far as the eye can see. There's garbage for you, there's garbage for me. The garbage dumps of New Jersey. 
When at last, I decided to roam, Far away from my home in Bayonne. I sat down, and wrote this poem. I wrote an ode to New Jersey. 
Copyright John Roberts and Tony Barrand Sung to the tune of The Rolling Hills of the Border.