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User Name Thread Name Subject Posted
Len Wallace Lyr Req: Streets of New York (from Wolfe Tones) (7) Lyr Add: STREETS OF NEW YORK 15 Jul 99


STREETS OF NEW YORK

I was 18 years old when I went down to Dublin
With a fistful of money and a cartload of dreams.
Take your time said me father, stop rushing like hell
And remember all's not what it seems to be
For there's fellas would cut you for the coat on your back
And the watch that you got from your mother
So take care me young bucko and mind yourself well
And give this wee note to me brother.

At the time Uncle Benji was a policeman in Brooklyn
And me father, the youngest, looked after the farm.
When a phone call from America said send the lad over
And the old fella said, sure t'wouldn't do any harm.
For I 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 and you'll see
And you can bring it back home, make it easy on me.

2.
So I landed in Kennedy and a big yellow taxi
Carried me and me bags through the streets and the rain
Well, my poor heart was pumping around with excitement
And I hardly even heard what the driver was saying.

We came in the short parkway to the flatlands in Brooklyn
To my uncle's apartment of East 53rd
I was feeling so happy I was humming a song
And I sang You're as Free As a Bird.

Well to shorten the story I found out that day
That Benji got shot down in a downtown foray.
And while I was making my way to New York
Poor Benji was lying in a cold city morgue.

Well, I phoned up the old fella and I told him the news.
I could tell he could hardly stand up in his shoes.
And he wept as he said go ahead with the plan
And not to forget be a true Irishman.

3.
So I went up to Nelly's beside Fordham road
And I started to learn about lifting the load.
But the heaviest thing that I carried that year
Was the bittersweet thoughts of my hometown so dear.

I went home in December cause the old fella died
And to borrow some money from Phil on the side
And all the bright flowers and the grass couldn’t hide
The poor wasted face of me father

I sold the old farmyard for what it was worth
And into my bag stuck a handful of earth
Then I boarded a train and I caught me a plane
And I found myself back in the US again

It's been 22 years since I set foot in Dublin
The kids know to use the correct knife and fork
But I'll never forget the green grass and her rivers
As I keep law and order on the streets in New York.

Len Wallace
email: lwallace@mnsi.net
homepage:
http://lenwallace.homepage.com/Len.html

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 11-Jan-02.


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