Down near Seventh Avenue,

With his brown eyes leaping into view,

Click, clack,  clacking on his big steel shoe,

Marching with his carriage right behind,

and his driver on the seat,

Say goodbye to Mr. Jim,

The one and only Mr. Jim.

He’s much older than some others of his kind,

The cool night air blows in the city’s cries,

And outside they’re making all that noise,

the angry people marching in the street,

The people singing in the din,

“You can’t be here, Mr. Jim,

You leave town now, Mr. Jim,

The kid are in the street collecting bottle tops,

Yelling please have mercy, it’s the cops,

the mayor in his office,

you can’t be here Mr. Jim,

I won’t  see you, Mr. Jim.

Say Goodbye to Mr. Jim,

You’re in the middle, Mr. Jim,

do you see the people,

Mr. Jim?

All alone now, Mr. Jim.

Come the shouts from down below,

and he knows he has to go,

The chants like the wind on the street below,

and he knows he has to go,

Say goodbye to Mr. Jim,

You don’t belong here, Mr. Jim.

Wonder why for Mr. Jim

And as he leaves, the music dies,

the only sound the buzzing flies.

and the chants so loud and high,

His ears raised high to hear the cries,

“1-2-3-4,

Mr. Jim is here no more,

5-6-6-8,

Mr. Jim we have to liberate

9-10-11-12,

Mr. Jim, you’re going to hell!”

Say goodbye to Mr. Jim

Dry your eyes for Mr. Jim.

And as he leave, the singing leaves the room,

the little boys come bye, staring at the weeping moon.

Cover your eyes for Mr. Jim,

Say goodbye to Mr. Jim.

Who will save you, Mr. Jim,

You’ll be gone soon, Mr. Jim.

Whoa, say goodbye for Mr. Jim,

Wonder why for Mr. Jim.

– Jon Katz, thanks to Van Morrison and “Madame George.”