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 Me Father,

Stop Rushing Like Hell,

And Remember All Is Not

What It Seems To Be,

For Theres Fellas Would Cut Ye

For The Coat On Yer Back,

Or The Watch That Ye Got

From Yer Mother,

So Take Care Me Young Buck-o

And Mind Yourself Well,

And Will Ye Give This Wee Note

To Me Brother.



At The Time Uncle Benjy

Was A Policeman In Brooklyn,

And Me Father The Youngest

Looked After The Farm,

When A Phonecall From America

Said 'Send The Lad Over',

Well The Ould Fella Said

'It Wouldn't Do Any Harm',

For I Spent Me Life Working

This Dirty Old Ground,

For A Few Pints Of Porter

And The Smell Of A Pound,

And Sure Maybe Theres Something

You Learn Loyalty,

And You Can Bring It Back Home,

Make A Duty On Me .



So I Landed At Kennedy,

And A Big Yellow Taxi

Carried Me And Me Bags

Through The Streets And The Rain,

Well Me Poor Heart Was Thumpin

Around With Excitement,

And I Hardly Ever Heard

What The Driver Was Saying,

We Came In The Shore Parkway

To The Flatlands Of Brooklyn,

To My Uncles Apartment

On East 53rd,

I Was Fellin So Happy

I Was Hummin A Song,

And I Sang,

Youre As Free As A Bird'.



Well To Shorten The Story

What I Found Out That Day,

Was That Benjy Got Shot Down

In An Uptown Foray,

And While I Was Flyin

My Way To New York,

Poor Benjy Was Lying

In A Cold City Morgue,

Well I Phoned Up The Ould Fella

Told Him The News,

I Could Tell He Could Hardly

Stand Up In His Shoes,

And He Wept As He Said

'Go Ahead With The Plan',

And Not To Forget

Be A Proud Irishman.



So I Went Up To Nellies

Beside Fordham Road,

And I Started To Learn

About Lifting The Load,

But The Heaviest Thing

I Carried That Year,

Was The Bitte