New York City Blues - Roger Alan Wade

«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