| Well I walked to town in the pouring rain | 
| Paid my fare and I rode that train | 
| To the station under the avenue | 
| Hit the air at the stroke of noon | 
| At the cross streets where I staked my claim | 
| I played in tune with the winter rain | 
| Collecting dimes and dollar bills | 
| While the noisy traffic played the fills | 
| And it’s Christmas time in the city | 
| When the air is filled with cheer | 
| And the storefronts look this pretty only once a year | 
| Well the vendors huddled and the taxis honked | 
| As I played for change beneath the neon clock | 
| Was dressed up looking like a Christmas tree | 
| Blinking down on that busy street | 
| When the crowd thinned out and the rain had quit | 
| And my fingers felt cold and stiff | 
| I took their money and I closed my case | 
| And I headed back towards home again | 
| And it’s Christmas time in the city | 
| When the air is filled with cheer | 
| And the storefronts look this pretty only once a year | 
| As I walked back to the subway stairs | 
| I had twenty eight dollars in change for fare | 
| There was an old bag lady with an outstretched hand | 
| And a small Salvation Army band | 
| Playing Angels We Have Heard on High | 
| The First Noel and O Holy Night | 
| I folded up one dollar bill | 
| And I tucked it down into the till | 
| And it’s Christmas time in the city | 
| When the air is filled with cheer | 
| And the storefronts look this pretty only once a year | 
| And it’s Christmas time in the city | 
| When the air is filled with cheer | 
| And the storefronts look this pretty only once a year | 
| And it’s Christmas time in the city |