| I was 18yrs old when I went down to Dublin
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| With a fistful of money and a cartload of dreams
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| «Take your time"said me father
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| Stop rushing like hell and remember all’s not what it seems to be
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| For there’s fellas would cut ye for the coat on yer back
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| Or the watch that you got from your mother
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| So take care me young bucko
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| And mind yourself well and will ya give this wee note to me brother
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| At the time Uncle Benjy was a policeman in Brooklyn
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| And me father the youngest, looked after the farm
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| When a phone-call from America said
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| 'Send the lad over'
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| And the oul' fella said 'Sure wouldn’t do any harm'
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| For I’ve spent me life working this dirty old ground
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| For a few pints of porter and the smell of a pound
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| And sure maybe there’s something you’ll learn or you’ll see
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| And you can bring it back home make it easy on me
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| So I landed in Kennedy and a big yellow taxi
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| Carried me and me bags through the streets and the rain
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| Well me poor heart was thumpin' around with excitement
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| And I hardly even heard what the driver was sayin'
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| We came in the Shore Parkway through the flatlands of Brooklyn
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| To me Uncle’s apartment on East 53rd
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| I was feeling so happy I was humming a song
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| And I sang «You're as free as a bird»
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| Well to shorten the story what I found out that day
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| Was that Benjy got shot down in an uptown foray
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| And while I was flying my way to New York
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| Poor Benjy was lying in a cold city morgue.
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| Well I phoned up the old fella told him the news
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| I could tell he could hardly stand up in his shoes and he wept as he told me
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| 'Go ahead with the plans
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| Never forget be a proud Irishman
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| So I went to Nellies beside Fordham road
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| And I started to learn about lifting the load
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| But the heaviest thing that I carried that year
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| Was the bittersweet thought of my hometown so dear
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| I went home that December 'cause the oul' fella died,
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| Had to borrow some money from Phil on the side
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| And all the bright flowers and brass couldn’t hide
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| The poor wasted face of my father
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| I sold up the oul' farmyard for what it was worth
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| And into my bag stuck a handful of earth
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| Then I caught me a train and I boarded a plane
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| And I found myself back in the US again
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| It’s been 22yrs since I’ve set foot in Dublin
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| Me kids know to use the correct knife and fork
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| But I’ll never forget the green grass and the rivers
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| As I keep law and order on the streets of New York. |