Listen to Streets of New York by Ryan McMullan

Streets of New York

Ryan McMullan

Singer/Songwriter

1,543

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RYAN MCMULLAN // THE STREETS OF NEW YORK (Liam Reilly cover) // ROADIE TV

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Ryan McMullan

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COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Ryan McMullan

Songwriter

Lyrics

I was eighteen years old when I went down to Dublin

With a fistfull 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 fellas who'd cut ya for the coat on your back

Or the watch that ye got from your mother

So take care my young buck-o and mind yourself well

And would ya give this wee note to my brother"

At the time Uncle Benjy 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 my old fella 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 or you'll see

If 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 thumpin' around with excitement

That I hardly even heard what the driver was saying

We pulled in the Shore Parkways to the Flatlands of 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 Benjy got shot down in an uptown foray

Oh, so while I was flying my way to New York

Poor old Benjy was lying in a cold city morgue

Oh, I called up the old fella 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 you're not to forget to be a proud Irishman"

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 off Phil on the side

Oh, and all the bright flowers and brass couldn't hide

The poor wasted face of my father

We sold up the old barnyard for what it was worth

And into my bag stuck a handful of earth

And I boarded a train and I caught me a plane

And I found myself back in the US again

(Belfast, this is your verse)

It's been twenty two years since I set foot in Dublin

My kids know to use the correct knife and fork

But I'l never forget the green grass and the rivers

As I keep law and order on the streets of New York

Written by: Ryan McMullan

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