Lyrics New York City Blues - Roger Alan Wade

New York City Blues

«So long Father Bingo,» said the Hoosier to the priest
«Fare-thee-well,» he replied in broken Portuguese
The conductor tore her ticket
Tore it all in half
She told him where to stick it
Said, «You killed Sylvia Plath»
Oh sweet Sarah queen of tarot
With the Indiana blues
Walks the streets of Little Italy in her New York City shoes
Oh the farms and farm houses and the farm boys sweet and true
Rolling in the tall grass with the golden ingenue
Some called it flame and sin
She just calld it time to go
And she ain’t coming back again
Oh but then, you nver know
Sweet Sarah queen of tarot
With the Indiana blues
Walks the streets of Little Italy in her New York City shoes
Oh sweet Sarah queen of tarot
With the Indiana blues
Walks the streets of Little Italy in her New York City shoes