(David Munyon/S.P. Standley)

Written in New York City, in Central Park after the storm. For my friend Francis Preston at BMI.

Sail away, New England
I wound up in New York City
I think I been there before
I seen it on TV
I knew the echo of the subway
sang with the voices on the corner
felt like Bob Dylan as I posed
beside the Hudson River
hundreds of streets and friendly people
there's a vibe past the honking
I have never in my life seen so many cabs

N.Y.C.
Become a part of me
New York City
ain't it pretty

I hear the sound of spray paint, shaking...
poets signing what they drew there
not many bikes, but the ones I see
seem to be racing
lovely women by the truckload
pizza pie from heaven
rich and poor on the island
they call Manhattan

N.Y.C.
Become a part of me
New York City
ain't it pretty
There's a big dog in the window
he is watching all this action
me an' this song groove along
in the Big Apple

N.Y.C.
Become a part of me
New York City
ain't it pretty

I love New York

David Munyon: vocal, guitar
Chris Jones: guitars
Steve Baker: harp
Frank Fiedler: acoustic bass