Streets Of New York Lyrics - Singles - Wolfe Tones

I was eighteen years old 

When I went down to Dublin, 

With a fistfull of money 

And a cartload of dreams, 

Take your time 

Said me father, 

Stop rushing like hell, 

And remember all is not 

What it seems to be, 

For there's fellas would cut ye 

For the coat on yer back, 

Or the watch that ye got 

From yer mother, 

So take care me young buck-o 

And mind yourself well, 

And will ye give this wee note 

To me brother. 

At the time Uncle Benjy 

Was a policeman in Brooklyn, 

And me father the youngest 

Looked after the farm, 

When a phonecall from America 

Said 'Send the lad over', 

Well the old fella said 

'It wouldn't do any harm', 

For I spent me 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 learn loyalty, 

And you can bring it back home, 

Make a duty on me . 

So I landed at Kennedy, 

And a big yellow taxi 

Carried me and me bags 

Through the streets and the rain, 

Well me poor heart was thumpin' 

Around with excitement, 

And I hardly ever heard 

What the driver was saying, 

We came in the Shore Parkway 

To the Flatlands of Brooklyn, 

To my Uncles apartment 

On East 53rd, 

I was fellin' so happy 

I was hummin' a song, 

And I sang, 

You're as free as a bird'. 

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 flyin' 

My way to New York, 

Poor Benjy was lying 

In a cold city morgue, 

Well I phoned up the old fella 

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 proud Irishman. 

So I went up to Nellies 

Beside Fordham Road, 

And I started to learn 

About lifting the load, 

But the heaviest thing 

I carried that year, 

Was the bittersweet thoughts 

Of my hometown so dear, 

I went home that December 

'Cause the old fella died, 

Had to borrow some money 

From a Phil on the side, 

And all the bright flowers 

And brass couldn't hide, 

The poor wasted face 

Of me father. 

I sold up the old farmyard 

For what it was worth, 

And into me 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, 

Its been twenty two years 

Since I set foot in Dublin, 

Me kids know to use 

The correct knife and fork, 

But I never will forget 

The green grass and the rivers, 

As I keep law and order 

On the streets of New York.