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!