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The Streets Of New York By Liam Reilly.

I was eighteen 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 rushing like hell And remember all is not what it seems to be For there's fellows would cut you for the coat off 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 Benjie 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 fellow said Sure, it 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 there I'll see And you can bring it back home, make it easy on me. So I landed at Kennedy, and a big yellow taxi Hurried me and my bags through the streets and the rain. Well my poor heart was thumping around with excitement And I hardly even heard what the driver was saying. We came in the Shore Parkway though the flatlands in Brooklyn To my uncle's apartment on East Fifty-third 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 Benjie got shot down in an uptown foray And while I was flying my way to New York Poor Benjie was lying in a cold city morgue. Well I phoned up the old fellow 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 not to forget to be a proud Irishman. So I went up 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 fellow died Had to borrow the money from Phil on the side And all of the flowers and brass couldn't hide The cold wasted face of my father I sold out the old farmyard for what it was worth And into my bags took a handful of earth Then I boarded a train for to catch me a plane, And I found myself back in the U.S. again. It's been twenty-two years since I set foot in Dublin My kids know to use their 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.

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