Bagatelle - Streets Of New York lyrics
[Bagatelle - Streets Of New York lyrics]
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
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"
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"
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
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
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 US 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
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
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"
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"
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
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
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 US 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