In Old New York

The evening rays cross the sloping ridges of the Bronx
Down to the sound I make my way o’er the moss and slippery rocks
The northwest winds behind me
The stars overhead will guide me across the water of the Harlem River

My compass spins towards the magnet of your smile
As I wade through the marshes of our silent isle
The beavers may regard me suspiciously
The puma may eye me deliciously
But he won’t keep me from my intended course to you

So meet me by the tallest tree where 34th and 5th will be
I’ll take you on a quiet spree in old New York

Lightening strikes as the Hudson rises into view
Take my hand don’t let this thunder bother you
The rain may pour down all around us
The sky may rise up to greet us
But we’ll just sink out baskets in and pull up our meals

So meet me where the bloodroots grow
Where Washington Square Park will go
There’s time enough for you to know ‘bout old New York

We’ll dream upon the sandy shores
In the shadow of the sycamores
One day we will be no more in old New York