The Streets of New York lyrics and chords

The chords to The Streets of New York are presented in the key of C. The lyrics tell the story of an emigrant who leaves Ireland for New York.

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C 
I was eighteen years  
G7 
old when I  
C 
went down to  
F 
Dublin
 
With a  
C 
fistful of  
Am 
money and a  
F 
cartload of  
G7 
dreams
 
‘Take your  
C 
time’ said me  
G7 
father, ‘stop  
C 
rushing like  
F 
hell
 
And re
C 
member all is not what it  
G7 
seems to  
C 
be
 
For there’s  
G7 
fellows would cut you for the  
F 
coat on your  
C 
back
 
Or the watch that you got from your  
G7 
mother
 
So take  
C 
care me young  
G7 
buck-o and  
C 
mind yourself  
F 
well
 
And will you  
C 
give this wee  
F 
note to me  
C 
brother.’


 
At the  
G7 
time uncle Benjy was a  
F 
policeman in  
C 
Brooklyn
 
And me father the youngest looked  
G7 
after the farm
 
When a  
C 
phone call from  
G7 
America said ‘
C 
send the lad  
F 
over’
 
And the ould fella  
Am 
said ‘sure it wouldn’t  
G7 
do any  
C 
harm
 
For I  
F 
spent my life working this  
C 
dirty old ground
 
For a  
F 
few pints of porter and the  
C 
smell of a  
G7 
pound
 
And sure  
C 
maybe there’s  
G7 
something you’ll  
C 
learn or you’ll  
F 
see
 
And you can  
C 
bring it back  
F 
home, make it  
G7 
easy on  
C 
me

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So I landed at Kennedy and a big yellow taxi
Carried me and my bags through the streets in the rain
Well my poor heart was pumping around with excitement
And I hardly even heard what the driver was saying
We came in the short parkway to the flatlands in Brooklyn
To my 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 Benjy got shot in a downtown 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 plan
And not to forget to be a proud Irishman

So I went up to Nelly’s beside Fordham Road
And I started to learn about lifting the load
But the healthiest 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 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 farmyard for what it was worth
And into my bag stuck a handful of eaerth
Then 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
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

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Lyrics and Chords

The Streets of New York lyrics and chords print version

[C]I was eighteen years [G7]old when I [C]went down to [F]Dublin
With a [C]fistful of [Am]money and a [F]cartload of [G7]dreams
‘Take your [C]time’ said me [G7]father, ‘stop [C]rushing like [F]hell
And re[C]member all is not what it [G7]seems to [C]be
For there’s [G7]fellows would cut you for the [F]coat on your [C]back
Or the watch that you got from your [G7]mother
So take [C]care me young [G7]buck-o and [C]mind yourself [F]well
And will you [C]give this wee [F]note to me [C]brother.’

At the [G7]time uncle Benjy was a [F]policeman in [C]Brooklyn
And me father the youngest looked [G7]after the farm
When a [C]phone call from [G7]America said ‘[C]send the lad [F]over’
And the ould fella [Am]said ‘sure it wouldn’t [G7]do any [C]harm
For I [F]spent my life working this [C]dirty old ground
For a [F]few pints of porter and the [C]smell of a [G7]pound
And sure [C]maybe there’s [G7]something you’ll [C]learn or you’ll [F]see
And you can [C]bring it back [F]home, make it [G7]easy on [C]me

So I landed at Kennedy and a big yellow taxi
Carried me and my bags through the streets in the rain
Well my poor heart was pumping around with excitement
And I hardly even heard what the driver was saying
We came in the short parkway to the flatlands in Brooklyn
To my 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 Benjy got shot in a downtown 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 plan
And not to forget to be a proud Irishman

So I went up to Nelly’s beside Fordham Road
And I started to learn about lifting the load
But the healthiest 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 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 farmyard for what it was worth
And into my bag stuck a handful of eaerth
Then 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
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

Videos
Lyrics and Chords

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