The Streets Of New York
The Wolfe Tones
The Streets Of New York: The Wolfetones Capo on 2nd fret G Am G C I was eighteen years old when I went down to Dublin G Em Am D With a fistfull of money and a cartload of dreams. G Am G C "Take your time," said my father, "stop rushing like Hell, G Em D7 G And remember all's not what it seems to be. D Em C G For there's fellas who'd cut you for the coat on your back, C Em D Or that watch that you got from your mother. G Am G C So take care, my young bucko, and mind yourself well. G D7 G And would you give this wee note to my brother." D C G At the time, Uncle Benjy was a policeman in Brooklyn, D C D And my father, the youngest, looked after the farm. G Am G C Til a phone call from America said "Send the lad over." G Em D G And my old fella said, "Sure, t'wouldn't do any harm. C D G For I've spent my life working this dirty old ground C D G For a few pints of porter and the smell of a pound. G Am G C And sure, maybe there's something you'll learn or you'll see, G Em D7 G And you can bring it back home, make it easier on me." G Am G C So, I landed at Kennedy, and a big yellow taxi G Em Am D Carried me and my bags through the streets and the rain. G Am G C Well, my poor heart was thumping around with excitement, G Em D7 G And I hardly even heard what the driver was saying. D Em C G We came in the Shore Parkway through the flatlands in Brooklyn, C Em D To my uncle's apartment on East 53rd. G Am G C I was feeling so happy, I was humming a song, G D7 G And I sang "You're as free as a bird." D C G Well, to shorten the story, whatI found out that day D C G Was that Benjy got shot down in an uptown foray. G Am G C And while I was flying my way to New York, G Em D G Poor Benjy was lying in a cold city morgue. C D G Well, I called up my old fella, told him the news. C G D I could tell he could hardly stand up in his shoes. G Am G C And he wept as he told me go ahead with the plan, G Em D G And not to forget, be a proud Irish man. G Am G C So, I went up to Nellie's beside Fordham Road, G Em Am D And I started to learn about lifting my load. G Am G C But the heaviest thing that I carried that year G Em D7 G Was the bittersweet thoughts of my hometown so dear. D Em C G I went home that December cause my old fella died. C Em Am D I had to borrow the money from a fella on the side. G Am G C And all the bright flowers and brass couldn't hide G D7 G The poor, wasted face of my father. D C G I sold off the old far yard for what it was worth, D C D And into my bag stuck a handful of earth. G Am G C Then I boarded a train and I caught me a plane, G Em D G And I found myself back in the U.S. again. C G D It's been twenty-two years since I set foot in Dublin. C D C G My kids know to use the correct knife and fork. G Am G C But I'll never forget the green grass and the rivers, G Em Am G As I keep law and order in the streets of New York G Am G C Na,na,na na,na,na, na,na,na,na,na,na,na, G Em Am G Na,na, na,na,na, na,na,na,na,na,na.