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Ramblin' outa the wild west |
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Leavin' the towns i love the best |
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Thought i'd seen some ups and down |
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"til i come into new york town |
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People goin' down to the ground |
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Buildings goin' up to the sky. |
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|
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Wintertime in new york town |
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The wind blowin' snow around |
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Walk around with nowhere to go, |
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Somebody could freeze right to the bone |
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I froze right to the bone |
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New york times said it was the coldest winter in seventeen years; |
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I didn't feel so cold then |
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|
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I swung on to my old guitar |
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Grabbed hold of a subway car |
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And after a rocking, reeling, rolling ride, |
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I landed up on the downtown side |
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Greenwich village |
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|
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I walked down there and ended up |
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In one of them coffee-houses on the block. |
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Got on the stage to sing and play, |
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Man there said, "come back some other day |
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You sound like a hillbilly; |
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We want folk singer here |
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|
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Well, i got a harmonica job, begun to play |
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Blowin' my lungs out for a dollar a day. |
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I blowed inside out and upside down. |
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The man there said he loved m' sound, |
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He was ravin' about how he loved m' sound |
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Dollar a day's worth |
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|
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And after weeks and weeks of hangin' around |
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I finally got a job in new york town, |
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In a bigger place, bigger money too, |
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Even joined the union and paid m' dues |
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Now, a very great man once said |
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That some people rob you with a fountain pen |
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It don't take too long to find out |
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Just what he was talkin' about |
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A lot of people don't have much food on their table, |
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But they got a lot of forks n' knives |
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And they gotta cut somethin' |
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|
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So one mornin' when the sun was warm |
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I rambled out of new york town. |
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Pulled my cap down over my eyes |
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And headed out for the western skies |
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So long, new york |
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Howdy, east orange |
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