paroles de chanson Streets of New York - The Wolfe Tones

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 my father, "Stop rushin′ like hell"
"And remember, all is not what it seems to be"
"For there's fellows would cut you for the coat on your back"
"Or the watch that you got from your mother"
"So take care me young buck-o and mind yourself well"
"And will you give this we note to my, brother?"

At the time, uncle Benji 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"
And the old fella said, "Sure, it wouldn′t do any harm"
For I spent my life workin' this dirty old ground
For a few pints of porter and the smell of a pound
And sure, maybe there's somethin′ 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
Well, my poor heart was pumpin′ around with excitement
And I hardly even heard what the driver was sayin'
We came in the short parkway to the flatlands in Brooklyn
To my uncle′s apartment on East 53rd
I was feelin' 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 Benji got shot in an uptown foray
And while I was flyin' my way to New York
Poor Benji was lyin′ 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 plan"
And not to forget, be a proud Irishman

So I went up to Nelly′s beside Fordham Road
And I started to learn about liftin' the load
But the healthiest thing that I carried that year
Was the bitter-sweet thoughts of my hometown so dear
I went home that December ′cause the old fella died
Had to borrow the money from Phil on the side
And all the bright flowers and grass 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 boarded a train and I caught me a plane
And I found myself back in the U.S. again
It′s been 22 years since I 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