| Oh, it’s 6 o’clock and it’s time to rock
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| And me head is beatin' like a drum
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| In the cold grey light, ah I feel like shite
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| And I can’t remember last night’s fun
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| Then the foreman says «C'mon now boys
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| Stick your fingers down your throat and get to work»
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| And I wish to Christ I’d stayed home last night
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| Instead of drinkin' in America
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| Oh, I knock down walls with big iron balls
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| And I mix cement by the ton
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| With me tongue hangin' out for a bottle of stout
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| Sweatin' bullets in the Brooklyn sun
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| Then I think of her up on Kingsbridge Road
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| Did she mean what she said last night
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| Oh Mammy dear, we’re all mad over here…
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| Livin' in America
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| On me way downtown, I think of that clown
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| And the things that he said last night
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| Did he mean 'em at all or was it just drink talk
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| Oh, I must look a terrible sight
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| Put me makeup on as I watch the sun rise high over Fordham Road
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| Oh Mammy dear, we’re all mad over here
|
| Livin' in America
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| Ah, the kids aren’t dressed and the house is a mess
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| And the yuppies are networkin' again
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| Kiss their darlin’s goodbye — «oh, we’ll be late tonight
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| But we should be home by eleven»
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| Oh, me little dears dry up your tears
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| Your parents are too busy makin' money
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| Oh Mammy dear, we’re all mad over here
|
| Livin' in America
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| Workin' with the black man, Dominican and Greek
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| In the snows of January or the drenchin' August heat
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| No sick days or benefits and for Christ sakes don’t get hurt
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| The quacks over here won’t patch you up unless they see the bucks upfront
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| Lookin' after babies fron crack of dawn 'til dusk
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| Changin' dirty nappies and cleanin' up the house
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| Is this what I’ve been educated for
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| To wipe the arse of every baby in America
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| Now the day is done, take the subway home
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| Squashed up like some sardine in a a can
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| In the Blarney Stone, drink a gallon of foam
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| 'Til I’m feelin' half meself again
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| If she comes tonight, I’ll ask her outright
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| Ah what the hell, nothin' ventured nothin' gained…
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| And if she takes a chance, she might find romance
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| Now she’s livin' in America
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| See him standing there with the ring in his ear
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| And the grin on the side of his face
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| With the fag in his mouth, oh I should watch out
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| For they say that he’s a real hard case
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| Should I take me chance or say «no thanks»
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| Ah what the hell, nothin' ventured nothin' gained
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| Oh Mammy dear, we’re all mad over here
|
| Livin' in America |