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 my father. "
Stop rushing like Hell and remember it's not what it seems to be."

For there's fellows would cut you for the coat on your back or the watch that you got from your mother.
So take care me young Bucko remind yourself well would you give this wee note to my brother?"

At the time Uncle Benji was a policeman 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 fellow said, "
It won't do any harm."

For I spent my time working this dirty old ground, for a few pints of porter and the smell of a pound.
Sure maybe there's something you'll learn or you'll see, you can take it back home make it easy on me.

So I landed at Kennedy and a big yellow taxi took me and my bags to the streets and the rain.
My poor heart was jumping without any excitement and I hardly even knew what the driver was saying.

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

And to shorten the story well they found out that day was when Benji got shot in a downtown foray.
And as I was flying my way to New York, poor Benji was lying in a cold city morgue.

So I phoned up the old fellow, 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 not to forget be a proud Irishman."

So I went down 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 that December cause the old fellow died, had to borrow the money from Phil on the side.
And all the bright flowers and grass couldn't hide, the poor wasted face of my father.

I sold up the old farmyard for what it was worth, and into my bag stuck a handful of earth.
Then I caught me a train and then caught me a plain and soon found mysef back in the US again.

It's been 22 years since I went back to 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.