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The New York Times
par
Gene Watson
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Letra
My woman always talked about the New York City life She never really wanted to be a country boy's wife Opening nights on Broadway were always on her mind She couldn't seem to live without what she called the New York Times I walked in from work one day and didn't find her home But I didn't have to wonder long figuring where she'd gone Love was all I had to give so she left me behind To go up there somewhere, looking for the New York Times Hey, New York City, won't you have a little pity On this poor Texas country boy Somewhere around your big apple town I've lost my pride and joy I've walked up and down every street around Till I think I'm going out of my mind If I don't find my baby today I'll run an ad in the New York Times I've been down 5th Avenue, even up old Broadway And I searched all the honky tonks like the Lone Star Cafe Lord, I wish I could give her up and erase her from my heart But here I stand a broken man in the middle of Central Park
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