Lyrics:

As recorded at Las Vegas in June, 1955

My family has traditions
I've heard them a thousand times
My relatives were not excessively bright
They love to go off on missions
To rather peculiar climes
And lead the wretched heathens to the light
A few of them got beaten up
In course of these rampages
My dear Aunt Maud got eaten up
While singing 'Rock of Ages.'
These family expeditions
Admittedly are a bore
But there is just one uncle
That I positively adore

Poor Uncle Harry
Wanted to be a missionary
So he took a ship and sailed away
This visionary
Hotly pursued by dear Aunt Mary
Found a South Sea Isle on which to stay
The natives greeted them kindly and invited them to dine
On yams and clams and human hams and vintage coconut wine
The taste of which was filthy, but the after-effects divine

Poor Uncle Harry
Got a bit gay and longed to tarry
This, Aunt Mary couldn't quite allow
She lectured him severely on a number of church affairs
But when she'd gone to bed he made a getaway down the stairs
For he longed to find the answer to a few of the maiden's prayers
Uncle Harry's not a missionary now

Poor Uncle Harry
After a chat with dear Aunt Mary
Thought the time had come to make a row
He lined up all the older girls in one of the local sheds
And while he was reviling them, and tearing himself to shreds
They took their Mother Hubbards off and tied them around their heads
Uncle Harry's not a missionary now—
He's awfully happy—
But he's certainly not a missionary now!

Now Uncle was just a 'seeker'
A 'dreamer' sincerely blest
Of this there couldn't be a shadow of doubt
The fact that his flesh was weaker
Than even Aunt Mary guessed
Took even her some time to figure out
In all those languid latitudes
The atmosphere's exotic
To take up moral attitudes
Would be too idiotic
Though nobody could be meeker
Than Uncle had been before
I bet today he's giving way
At practically every pore!

Poor Uncle Harry
Having become a missionary
Found the natives' morals rather crude
He and Aunt Mary
Quickly imposed an arbitrary
Ban upon them shopping in the nude
They all considered this silly and they didn't take it well
They burned his boots and several suits and wrecked the Mission Hotel
They also burnt his mackintosh, which made a disgusting smell

Poor Uncle Harry
After some words with dear Aunt Mary
Called upon the chiefs for a pow-wow
They didn't brandish knives at him, they really were awfully sweet
They made concerted dives at him and offered him things to eat
But when they threw their wives at him he had to admit defeat
Uncle Harry's not a missionary now

Poor dear Aunt Mary
Though it were revolutionary
Thought her time had come to take a bow
Poor Uncle Harry looked at her, in whom he had placed his trust
His very last illusion broke and crumbled away to dust
For she'd placed a flower behind her ear and frankly...exposed... her bust
Uncle Harry's not a missionary now—
He's left the island—
But he's certainly not a missionary now