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Streets Of New York
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Celtic Thunder
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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 me father. “Stop rushing like hell And remember all is not what it seems to be For there's fellas would cut you for the coat on yer back Or the watch that you got from your mother So take care, me young bucko, and mind yourself well And will ya give this wee note to me brother?” At the time Uncle Benji was a policeman in Brooklyn And me father, the youngest, looked after the farm When a phone call from America said, “Send the lad over.” The old fella said, “Sure. Wouldn't do any harm For I've 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 in Kennedy and a big yellow taxi Carried me and my bags through the streets and the rain Well, me poor heart was thumpin' around with excitement And I hardly even heard what the driver was sayin' We came in the Shore Parkway to the flatlands of Brooklyn To me 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 Benji got shot down in an uptown foray And while I was flying 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 told me, “Go ahead with the plans Never forget: Be a proud Irish man.” So I went down to Nellie'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 fella died Had to borrow some 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 Then I caught me a train and I boarded a plane And I found myself back in the US again It's been twenty two years since I've set foot in Dublin My 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 on the streets of New York Na na na na na na na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na na na na na
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