Where the cars are packed so frightfully close,
And billows of smoke do crowd and encroach.
There my love went to sow wild oats,
And that is just fine with me.

Where the troublesome buildings grow tall and wide
And the businessmen march in single lines.
To where my love left my heart and mind,
And that is just fine with me.

Upon my hill I fiddle and sway
And watch from afar the toil and strain.
For now my love is miles away
And that is just fine with me.