There was a young man of Park Slope
Who liked to be tied up with rope
And forced on his knees
To eat black-eyed peas
Which was good for his health, one would hope.
There was a young lady of Queens
Who lived well, though of moderate means,
By riding the bus,
Shopping Army surplus,
And stealing from vending machines.
There was a young man of the Bronx
Who was tired of beeps, toots, and honks,
So he went to Surrey
Where they're not in a hurry
And say Please and Pardon and Thanks.
There was an old man of Bay Ridge
Proud of his Norse heritage.
He was almost pure Norse,
With some Danish, of course,
And some Irish, but only a smidge.
A lady who lived in Tribeca
Said, "New York is heaven! A mecca!
Though sometimes I long
For a chickadee's song,
Or the sound of a tufted woodpecca."
There was a young lady of Newark
Who rode a PATH train daily to work
Then returned to the station
For the same transportation
At six o'clock when she was through work.
There was a young man of Hoboken
Whose passion was very well spoken
To a lovely young raver
On a train when he gave her
His Metrocard as a love token.
A man of the Upper West Side
Never left, he was so satisfied,
Til at age thirty-five
He went for a drive
To Vermont, caught pneumonia, and died.
A lawyer who lived in Poughkeepsie
Wanted to live like a gypsy
But family said, O no
That life ain't pro bono,
And also your facto isn't ipse."