Old John

Old John, the queen of Harlem’s heart was beat today

She stopped in Central Park beside the frozen lake

No stone to hold his grave, no stone to hold his name

Only the wind will go to see him on his way

No more, no more

Tall tales of hidden gold, tall tales of treasure

Hidden in the subway tunnels down below somewhere

Who knows? who knows?

Pup tent on Big Rock Candy Mountain

Beside the lakes of blackthorn gin

She lives! She lives!