In 1902, father built a house at the crest
Of the Broadview Avenue hill in New Rochelle, New York
And it seemed for some years thereafter
That all the family's days would be warm and fair
The skies were blue and hazy
Rarely a storm, barely a chill
The afternoons were lazy
Everyone warm, everything still
And there was distant music
Simple and somehow sublime
Giving a nation, a new syncopation
The people called it ragtime
And there was distant music
Skipping a beat, singing a dream
A strange, insistent music
Putting out heat, picking up steam
A sound of distant thunder
Suddenly starting to climb
It was the music of something beginning
An era exploding, a century spinning
In riches and rags
And in rhythm and rhyme
The people called it ragtime
Ragtime, ragtime, ragtime
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