Hush little baby, don't say a word

Papa's gonna take you to West 43rd

And the intellectual temple, Town Hall,

On a street that serves a lot of alcohol

And the home of the New Yorker magazine

And the Algonquin Round Table literary scene

But if literary history is not an inspiration,

Papa will take you to Grand Central Station

And if the Oyster Bar is out of Tobasco

Papa will take you to the Belasco

And if you're not impressed by Mark Rylance

And there's too much talking, not enough violence,

And if you feel the urge to laugh

Papa will take you to see Falstaff

And if you tire of the opera speedily

Papa will take you down to Eatally

And if the pasta's too wet and the wine's too dry

I'll take you to the 92nd Street Y

And if the poetry reading's a bore

And the metaphors you've heard before

And the poets' muse is a much too solemn muse

Papa's gonna take you to St. Bartholomew's

And if Papa thinks that the sermon is dull he

Will take you over to Alice Tully

And if you don't like the concerto by Corelli

Papa will take you to Katz's Deli

And if the pickles are low on dill

Papa will take you to Murray Hill

And if there's too much honk honk and too much zoom

We'll head west and visit Grant's Tomb,

And if his tomb fills you with gloom

I'll take you to the Met and the Impressionists Room

And if those paintings don't ring your chimes

Papa's gonna take you to the New York Times

And if they won't buy your story and give you a byline

Papa's gonna take you down to the Highline

And if the boardwalk feels like you're on a luge

Papa's going to take you to Poisson Rouge

And if the music is ordinary

We'll go to Woodlawn Cemetery

Where you will find on the same hill

Duke Ellington and Herman Melville,

Elizabeth Cady Stanton in the same earth

As George Cohan and F.W. Woolworth,

And if dead people aren't what you had in mind,

We'll head for Ninth Avenue and see what we find.

A New York Street where the sidewalks are lined

With joints where one can be wined and dined

And there Papa's credit card will be declined.

He'll be deVisaed and unMastered,

All because of you, you beautiful child.

Then we'll pack our bags and head for home

Out on the range where the buffalo roam,

We'll live on Cheese Whiz and Creamettes

So we can pay our credit card debts.

Drive a school bus, shovel the walks,

Clean the johns, and darn the socks,

And eventually when the money's made,

And the pigs are sold and the bills are paid,

We'll put down the shovel and the pitchfork,

And get dressed up and come back to New York