Editor’s Note: There are only so many stories you can tell, and sometimes, the same stories get told different ways. Blind John Ellsworth would occasionally recycle his basic stories, and assume since the target audiences were different, nobody would ever know. For example, what happens if some poor boy meets the same girl in a pop song, a country song and a blues song? These are the stories of the girl from New York City.
Pop
I met a girl
In New York City.
Her friends were loud,
But she was pretty.
We fell in love
All summer long.
When autumn came,
Our love was strong.
We married in Spring,
Our lives were linked.
The years flew by,
As if we blinked.
We grew old together,
We were always in love.
My girl and I, forever,
Are in heaven above.
Country
I met a girl
From New York City.
Her friends were loud,
But she sure was pretty.
They were Florida-bound,
Spring Break and such.
I tried to go with them,
I loved her that much.
We moved back home
To Tennessee.
I loved her madly.
She said she loved me.
One day, I awoke,
And found she was gone.
My New York queen,
Had sacrificed her pawn.
I still miss her badly,
I’ll dream of her tonight.
My New York City girl,
With her eyes shinin’ bright.
I hope she’ll come back.
I hope someday she’ll miss me.
I’m still waiting and hoping,
In the hills of Tennessee.
Blues
I met a girl
In New York City.
Her friends were loud,
But she was pretty.
Moved her to Dallas,
To start a new life.
Bought a house together,
Made her my wife.
Found her sleepin’ with my brother.
She broke my heart that day.
What’s even more disturbing,
Is that my brother is gay.
Made her a cocktail,
Told her she was still mine.
Just filled it up with poison,
Mixed in with her wine.
Buried her last weekend,
Was still sad to see her go.
My girl from New York City,
Now six feet down below.
