Go to New York you young ones. Go to the city which is larger than a city and is so large no one sleeps. "The city": it rears the sun for us. Listen to you, complaining and with nothing at all to do. In New York, the fun finds you, and the fun you'll find is the kind to write home about. Write home to forgotten friends, and ill motivated countrymen. Tell them of the tales. Those tales of money spent in low lit clubs. In New York young ones try to impress the girls. Provided in New York: a clever hat, a top coat and walking cane. Oh how the girls go wild for men with a clever hat and a neat hair cut. It can only be achieved in New York!
The newspaper men will write about you. They'll say: "Look at that man in his top coat. He had 88 women in one night" All of New York will read the headline. In taxis, in trains, in torrential downpours...when they use the paper as a makeshift umbrella...they will all read the headline. Later in life, the man or woman who runs the Smithsonian in Washington D.C. (District of Columbia) will gild that hat and with what will it will be gilded.
It's a life well lived in N.Y.C. It's not like in the wilderness, in the forrest, in the outback or on the sea. You'll do no chopping, no foraging, no fishing, you'll see. When you retire, honored with hat gilded may your silk slippers warm your city feet. Prop them high atop the Empire State building's observation deck, and shut your eyes. Sleep off life's hang over.