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New York City Blues
by
Roger Alan Wade
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"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 callеd it time to go And she ain't coming back again Oh but then, you nеver 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
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