– Basin Street Blues –
by Spencer Williams, 1926

Won't you come along with me
Down that Mississippi;
We'll take a boat to the land of dreams,
Steam down the river down to New Orleans.

The band's there to greet us,
Old friends will meet us,
Where all people like to meet
Heaven on earth, they call it Basin Street

Basin Street is the street
Where the elite always meet -
In New Orleans, land of dreams
You'll never know how nice it seems
Or just how much it really means.

Glad to be, yessiree,
Where welcomes free, dear to me,
Where I can lose my Basin Street Blues.

– Night in the City –
Joni Mitchell, from "Blue"?

Light up light up
Light up your lazy blue eyes
Moon's up nights up
Taking the town by surprise
Night time night time
Day left an hour ago
City light time
Must you get ready so slow
There are places to come from and places to go

Night in the city looks pretty to me
Night in the city looks fine
Music comes spilling out into the street
Colors go flashing in time

Take off take off
Take off your stay-at-home shoes
Break off shake off
Chase off those stay-at-home blues
Stairway stairway
Down to the crowds in the street
They go their way
Looking for faces to greet
But we run on laughing with no one to meet

Night in the city looks pretty to me
Night in the city looks fine
Music comes spilling out into the street
Colors go waltzing in time
– The Sound of Music –
Rodgers and Hammerstein
rec by Julie Andrews in the 1965 movie musical

My day in the hills has come to an end, I know.
A star has come out to tell me it’s time to go.
But deep in the dark green shadows,
There are voices that urge me to stay.
So I pause and I wait and I listen,
For one more sound, for one more lovely thing
That the hills might say!

The hills are alive
With the sound of music,
With songs they have sung,
For a thousand years.
The hills fill my heart,
With the sound of music.
My heart wants to sing every song it hears.

My heart wants to
Beat like the wings of the birds that rise
From the lake to the trees.
My heart wants to sigh like a chime that flies
From a church on a breeze,
To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls
Over stones on its way,
To sing through the night,
Like a lark who is learning to pray.

I go to the hills when my heart is lonely.
I know I will hear what I heard before.
My heart will be blessed with the sound of music
And I’ll sing once more