Streets Of New York
[Verse 1]
I was 18 years old
When I went down to Dublin
With a fist full of money
And a cartload of dreams
Take your time
Said my father
Stop rushing like hell
And remember all is not
What it seems to be
For those fellows would cut you
For the coat on your back
Or the watch that you got
From your mother
So take care
My young bucko
And mind yourself well
And will you give this wee note
To my brother
[Verse 2]
At the time, Uncle Benjy
Was a police man in Brooklyn
And my father
The youngest
Looked after the farm
When a phone call from America
Said "Send the lad over"
And the old fella said
"Sure, it wouldn't do any harm!
For I'd spent my life working
This dirty old ground
For a few pints of porter
And the smell of a pound
And sure maybe there's something
You'll learn
Or you'll see
And you can bring it back home
Make it easy on me"
[Verse 3]
So I landed at Kennedy
And a big, yellow taxi
Carried me and my bags
Through the streets
And the rain
And my poor heart was thumping
Around with excitement
And I hardly even heard
What the driver was saying
We came in the short parkway
Through the flatlands in Brooklyn
To my uncle's apartment
On East 53rd
I was feeling so happy
I was humming a song
And I sang
"You're as free as a bird"
[Verse 4]
Well, to shorten the story
What I found out that day
Was that Benjy
Got shot down
In an uptown foray
And while I was flying
My way to New York
Benjy was lying
In a cold, city morgue
So I phoned up the old fella
And told him the news
I could tell
He could hardly
Stand up in his shoes
And he wept, as he told me
"Go ahead with the plan"
And never forget
Be a proud Irish man
[Verse 5]
So I went up to Nellies
Beside Fordham Road
And I started to learn
About lifting the load
But the heaviest thing
That I carried that year
Was the bitter-sweet thoughts
Of my home-town
So dear
I went home that December
Because the old fella died
Had to borrow
The money
From Phil on the side
And all the bright flowers
And brass couldn't hide
The poor wasted face
Of my father
[Verse 6]
I sold up the old farmyard
For what it was worth
And into my bag
Stuck a handful of earth
So I boarded a train
And got me a plane
And I found
Myself back
In the U.S. again
It's been 22 years
Since I've set foot in Dublin
The kids know to use
The correct knife and fork
But I'll never forget
The green grass
And the rivers
As I keep law and order
In the streets of New York