Ryan McMullan - Streets of New York (Live) lyrics
[Ryan McMullan - Streets of New York Live lyrics]
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 who'd 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 my brother"
At the time Uncle Benjy
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'
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'll learn or you'll see
If you can bring it back home
Make it easy on me
So I landed at Kennedy and a big yellow taxi
Carried me and me bags
Through the streets and the rain
Well my poor heart was thumpin'
Around with excitement
And I hardly even heard
What the driver was saying
We pulled in the Shore Parkway
To the Flatlands of Brooklyn
To my Uncles 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
Poor old Benjy 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 told me
"Go ahead with the plan
And you're not to forget to
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 of Phil on the side
Oh and all the bright flowers
And brass couldn't hide
The poor wasted face of my father
We sold up the old farmyard
For what it was worth and into me bag
Stuck a handful of earth
And I boarded a train
And I caught me a plane
And I found myself back in the US again
It's been twenty two years
Since I set foot in Dublin
My 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
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 who'd 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 my brother"
At the time Uncle Benjy
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'
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'll learn or you'll see
If you can bring it back home
Make it easy on me
So I landed at Kennedy and a big yellow taxi
Carried me and me bags
Through the streets and the rain
Well my poor heart was thumpin'
Around with excitement
And I hardly even heard
What the driver was saying
We pulled in the Shore Parkway
To the Flatlands of Brooklyn
To my Uncles 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
Poor old Benjy 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 told me
"Go ahead with the plan
And you're not to forget to
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 of Phil on the side
Oh and all the bright flowers
And brass couldn't hide
The poor wasted face of my father
We sold up the old farmyard
For what it was worth and into me bag
Stuck a handful of earth
And I boarded a train
And I caught me a plane
And I found myself back in the US again
It's been twenty two years
Since I set foot in Dublin
My 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