Chords for 2016 TOUR LIVE - 'STREETS OF NEW YORK'
Tempo:
129.4 bpm
Chords used:
C#
F#
D
G#
A
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[D#m] [C#] [F#]
[C#] [A#m] [G#] [C#]
I was eighteen [D#m] years old [C#] when I went [F#] down to Dublin with [C#] a fistful [A#m] of money and [F#] a cartload [G#] of dreams.
Take your time, said me [D#m] father, [C#] stop rushing [F#] like hell [C#] and remember [A#m] all's not what it seems [C#] to be.
[G#] All those colours will [A#m] cut you for [F#] the coat on your [C#] back or [F#] the watch that [A#m] you got from your [G#] mother.
So [C#] take care, [D#m] young [C#] bucko, mind yourself [F#] well, for you do this [G#] we know to [C#] be brother.
[G#] At the time Uncle Benji was a policeman in [C#] Brooklyn, I mean father the youngest, [F#] looked after [G#] the farm.
[C#] When a phone call from [D#m] America said send [F#] the lad over, [C#] old fella [A#m] said sure it wouldn't [G#] do any [C#] harm.
For I've [F#] spent my life working [C#] this dirty old crowd [F#] for a few pints [G#] of porter [C#] and the smell of a pound.
I sure maybe [D#m] there's something [C#] you'll learn or you'll [F#] see and [C#] you can bring it back [A#m] home, make [G#] it easy on [C#] me.
[F#] [C#]
[G#] So I landed [D#] in Kennedy [C#] and a big yellow [F#] taxi carried me and my [A#m] bags through [F#] the streets and [G#] the rain.
My [C#] poor heart was [D#m] thumping [C#] around with [F#] excitement [C#] and I hardly [A#m] even heard [G#] what the driver [C#] was saying.
[G#] Chained in the short [A#m] parkway through [F#] the flatlands [C#] of Brooklyn [F#] to me uncle's [A#m] apartment on [G#] the East 53rd.
I [C#] was feeling so [D#m] happy, [C#] I was humming her [F#] song and I sang [G#] yours free [C#] and above.
[G#] Well to shorten the story what [F#] I found out [C#] that day, that [G#] Benji got shot down in [F#] a [G#] tambourine.
And while I [D#m] was flying [C#] my way to [F#] New York, [C#] poor Benji was [A#m] lying [G#] in a [C#] cold city ward.
Well [F#] I phoned up the [G#] old fella, [C#] told him the news, I could [F#] tell he could hardly [C#] stand up in his shoes.
And he wept [D#m] as he told me [C#] go ahead with the plan, never [A#m] forget be a [G#] proud [C#] Irish [F#] man.
[A]
So I [D] went down to Nellies beside [G] Fordham Road [D] and I started to [Bm] learn about [G] left-handed [A]
love.
[D] But the heaviest [Em] thing that I [D] carried [G] that year [D] was the bitter [Bm] sweet thoughts of [A] my hometown [D] soul.
I [A] went home [Bm] that December for [G] the old fella [D] died, had [G] to borrow some money from [A] a few loan signs.
[D] Sold the [G] bright flowers [D] and brass [G] cuckoo ties, the poor wasted [A] face of [D] my father.
I [A] sold the old barnyard for [E] what it was worth, [D]
[A] into my bags [G] took a [A] handful of herbs.
[D] Then I caught me [Em] a train and I [D] caught it [G] at play, [D] and I found myself [Bm] back in [A] the US [D] again.
[G] It's been twenty two [A] years since I [D] set foot in Dublin, [G] it's [A] known to you as the correct knife and fork.
And I'll never [Em] forget the [D] green grass and the [G] rivers, and the [D] law [Bm] and order [A] on the streets [D] of New York.
[G] Come [A] on, sing with me.
[D]
[Em] [D] [G] [D]
[Bm] [G] [A]
[D] [Em] [D]
[G] [Bm] [A]
[D] Thank [G#] you.
[C#] [A#m] [G#] [C#]
I was eighteen [D#m] years old [C#] when I went [F#] down to Dublin with [C#] a fistful [A#m] of money and [F#] a cartload [G#] of dreams.
Take your time, said me [D#m] father, [C#] stop rushing [F#] like hell [C#] and remember [A#m] all's not what it seems [C#] to be.
[G#] All those colours will [A#m] cut you for [F#] the coat on your [C#] back or [F#] the watch that [A#m] you got from your [G#] mother.
So [C#] take care, [D#m] young [C#] bucko, mind yourself [F#] well, for you do this [G#] we know to [C#] be brother.
[G#] At the time Uncle Benji was a policeman in [C#] Brooklyn, I mean father the youngest, [F#] looked after [G#] the farm.
[C#] When a phone call from [D#m] America said send [F#] the lad over, [C#] old fella [A#m] said sure it wouldn't [G#] do any [C#] harm.
For I've [F#] spent my life working [C#] this dirty old crowd [F#] for a few pints [G#] of porter [C#] and the smell of a pound.
I sure maybe [D#m] there's something [C#] you'll learn or you'll [F#] see and [C#] you can bring it back [A#m] home, make [G#] it easy on [C#] me.
[F#] [C#]
[G#] So I landed [D#] in Kennedy [C#] and a big yellow [F#] taxi carried me and my [A#m] bags through [F#] the streets and [G#] the rain.
My [C#] poor heart was [D#m] thumping [C#] around with [F#] excitement [C#] and I hardly [A#m] even heard [G#] what the driver [C#] was saying.
[G#] Chained in the short [A#m] parkway through [F#] the flatlands [C#] of Brooklyn [F#] to me uncle's [A#m] apartment on [G#] the East 53rd.
I [C#] was feeling so [D#m] happy, [C#] I was humming her [F#] song and I sang [G#] yours free [C#] and above.
[G#] Well to shorten the story what [F#] I found out [C#] that day, that [G#] Benji got shot down in [F#] a [G#] tambourine.
And while I [D#m] was flying [C#] my way to [F#] New York, [C#] poor Benji was [A#m] lying [G#] in a [C#] cold city ward.
Well [F#] I phoned up the [G#] old fella, [C#] told him the news, I could [F#] tell he could hardly [C#] stand up in his shoes.
And he wept [D#m] as he told me [C#] go ahead with the plan, never [A#m] forget be a [G#] proud [C#] Irish [F#] man.
[A]
So I [D] went down to Nellies beside [G] Fordham Road [D] and I started to [Bm] learn about [G] left-handed [A]
love.
[D] But the heaviest [Em] thing that I [D] carried [G] that year [D] was the bitter [Bm] sweet thoughts of [A] my hometown [D] soul.
I [A] went home [Bm] that December for [G] the old fella [D] died, had [G] to borrow some money from [A] a few loan signs.
[D] Sold the [G] bright flowers [D] and brass [G] cuckoo ties, the poor wasted [A] face of [D] my father.
I [A] sold the old barnyard for [E] what it was worth, [D]
[A] into my bags [G] took a [A] handful of herbs.
[D] Then I caught me [Em] a train and I [D] caught it [G] at play, [D] and I found myself [Bm] back in [A] the US [D] again.
[G] It's been twenty two [A] years since I [D] set foot in Dublin, [G] it's [A] known to you as the correct knife and fork.
And I'll never [Em] forget the [D] green grass and the [G] rivers, and the [D] law [Bm] and order [A] on the streets [D] of New York.
[G] Come [A] on, sing with me.
[D]
[Em] [D] [G] [D]
[Bm] [G] [A]
[D] [Em] [D]
[G] [Bm] [A]
[D] Thank [G#] you.
Key:
C#
F#
D
G#
A
C#
F#
D
_ [D#m] _ _ _ [C#] _ _ [F#] _ _
[C#] _ _ [A#m] _ _ _ [G#] _ _ [C#] _
_ I was eighteen [D#m] years old [C#] when I went [F#] down to Dublin with [C#] a fistful [A#m] of money and [F#] a cartload [G#] of dreams.
_ Take your time, said me [D#m] father, [C#] stop rushing [F#] like hell [C#] and remember [A#m] all's not what it seems [C#] to be.
[G#] All those colours will [A#m] cut you for [F#] the coat on your [C#] back or [F#] the watch that [A#m] you got from your [G#] mother.
So [C#] take care, [D#m] young [C#] bucko, mind yourself [F#] well, for you do this [G#] we know to [C#] be brother.
_ [G#] At the time Uncle Benji was a policeman in [C#] Brooklyn, I mean father the youngest, [F#] looked after [G#] the farm.
_ [C#] When a phone call from [D#m] America said send [F#] the lad over, [C#] old fella [A#m] said sure it wouldn't [G#] do any [C#] harm.
For I've [F#] spent my life working [C#] this dirty old crowd [F#] for a few pints [G#] of porter [C#] and the smell of a pound.
I sure maybe [D#m] there's something [C#] you'll learn or you'll [F#] see and [C#] you can bring it back [A#m] home, make [G#] it easy on [C#] me.
_ [F#] _ _ [C#] _ _ _
[G#] So I landed [D#] in Kennedy [C#] and a big yellow [F#] taxi carried me and my [A#m] bags through [F#] the streets and [G#] the rain.
My _ [C#] poor heart was [D#m] thumping [C#] around with [F#] excitement [C#] and I hardly [A#m] even heard [G#] what the driver [C#] was saying. _ _
[G#] Chained in the short [A#m] parkway through [F#] the flatlands [C#] of Brooklyn [F#] to me uncle's [A#m] apartment on [G#] the East _ 53rd.
I [C#] was feeling so [D#m] happy, [C#] I was humming her [F#] song and I sang [G#] yours free [C#] and above. _
[G#] Well to shorten the story what [F#] I found out [C#] that day, that [G#] Benji got shot down in [F#] a _ [G#] tambourine.
And while I [D#m] was flying [C#] my way to [F#] New York, [C#] poor Benji was [A#m] lying [G#] in a [C#] cold city ward.
Well [F#] I phoned up the [G#] old fella, [C#] told him the news, I could [F#] tell he could hardly [C#] stand up in his shoes.
And he wept [D#m] as he told me [C#] go ahead with the plan, never [A#m] forget be a [G#] proud [C#] Irish [F#] man.
_ _ _ _ [A]
So I [D] went down to Nellies beside [G] Fordham Road [D] and I started to [Bm] learn about [G] left-handed [A]
love.
_ [D] But the heaviest [Em] thing that I [D] carried [G] that year [D] was the bitter [Bm] sweet thoughts of [A] my hometown [D] soul.
_ I [A] went home [Bm] that December for [G] the old fella [D] died, had [G] to borrow some money from [A] a few loan signs.
[D] Sold the [G] bright flowers [D] and brass [G] cuckoo ties, the poor wasted [A] face of [D] my father.
I [A] sold the old barnyard for [E] what it was worth, [D] _
[A] into my bags [G] took a [A] handful of herbs.
[D] Then I caught me [Em] a train and I [D] caught it [G] at play, [D] and I found myself [Bm] back in [A] the US [D] again.
_ _ [G] It's been twenty two [A] years since I [D] set foot in Dublin, [G] it's [A] known to you as the correct knife and fork.
And I'll never [Em] forget the [D] green grass and the [G] rivers, and the [D] law [Bm] and order [A] on the streets [D] of New York.
[G] _ _ Come [A] on, sing with me.
[D] _ _
[Em] _ _ _ [D] _ _ [G] _ _ [D] _
_ [Bm] _ _ [G] _ _ _ [A] _ _
_ [D] _ _ [Em] _ _ _ [D] _ _
[G] _ _ _ _ [Bm] _ _ _ [A] _
_ _ _ [D] _ _ Thank _ _ _ _ _ _ [G#] you. _
[C#] _ _ [A#m] _ _ _ [G#] _ _ [C#] _
_ I was eighteen [D#m] years old [C#] when I went [F#] down to Dublin with [C#] a fistful [A#m] of money and [F#] a cartload [G#] of dreams.
_ Take your time, said me [D#m] father, [C#] stop rushing [F#] like hell [C#] and remember [A#m] all's not what it seems [C#] to be.
[G#] All those colours will [A#m] cut you for [F#] the coat on your [C#] back or [F#] the watch that [A#m] you got from your [G#] mother.
So [C#] take care, [D#m] young [C#] bucko, mind yourself [F#] well, for you do this [G#] we know to [C#] be brother.
_ [G#] At the time Uncle Benji was a policeman in [C#] Brooklyn, I mean father the youngest, [F#] looked after [G#] the farm.
_ [C#] When a phone call from [D#m] America said send [F#] the lad over, [C#] old fella [A#m] said sure it wouldn't [G#] do any [C#] harm.
For I've [F#] spent my life working [C#] this dirty old crowd [F#] for a few pints [G#] of porter [C#] and the smell of a pound.
I sure maybe [D#m] there's something [C#] you'll learn or you'll [F#] see and [C#] you can bring it back [A#m] home, make [G#] it easy on [C#] me.
_ [F#] _ _ [C#] _ _ _
[G#] So I landed [D#] in Kennedy [C#] and a big yellow [F#] taxi carried me and my [A#m] bags through [F#] the streets and [G#] the rain.
My _ [C#] poor heart was [D#m] thumping [C#] around with [F#] excitement [C#] and I hardly [A#m] even heard [G#] what the driver [C#] was saying. _ _
[G#] Chained in the short [A#m] parkway through [F#] the flatlands [C#] of Brooklyn [F#] to me uncle's [A#m] apartment on [G#] the East _ 53rd.
I [C#] was feeling so [D#m] happy, [C#] I was humming her [F#] song and I sang [G#] yours free [C#] and above. _
[G#] Well to shorten the story what [F#] I found out [C#] that day, that [G#] Benji got shot down in [F#] a _ [G#] tambourine.
And while I [D#m] was flying [C#] my way to [F#] New York, [C#] poor Benji was [A#m] lying [G#] in a [C#] cold city ward.
Well [F#] I phoned up the [G#] old fella, [C#] told him the news, I could [F#] tell he could hardly [C#] stand up in his shoes.
And he wept [D#m] as he told me [C#] go ahead with the plan, never [A#m] forget be a [G#] proud [C#] Irish [F#] man.
_ _ _ _ [A]
So I [D] went down to Nellies beside [G] Fordham Road [D] and I started to [Bm] learn about [G] left-handed [A]
love.
_ [D] But the heaviest [Em] thing that I [D] carried [G] that year [D] was the bitter [Bm] sweet thoughts of [A] my hometown [D] soul.
_ I [A] went home [Bm] that December for [G] the old fella [D] died, had [G] to borrow some money from [A] a few loan signs.
[D] Sold the [G] bright flowers [D] and brass [G] cuckoo ties, the poor wasted [A] face of [D] my father.
I [A] sold the old barnyard for [E] what it was worth, [D] _
[A] into my bags [G] took a [A] handful of herbs.
[D] Then I caught me [Em] a train and I [D] caught it [G] at play, [D] and I found myself [Bm] back in [A] the US [D] again.
_ _ [G] It's been twenty two [A] years since I [D] set foot in Dublin, [G] it's [A] known to you as the correct knife and fork.
And I'll never [Em] forget the [D] green grass and the [G] rivers, and the [D] law [Bm] and order [A] on the streets [D] of New York.
[G] _ _ Come [A] on, sing with me.
[D] _ _
[Em] _ _ _ [D] _ _ [G] _ _ [D] _
_ [Bm] _ _ [G] _ _ _ [A] _ _
_ [D] _ _ [Em] _ _ _ [D] _ _
[G] _ _ _ _ [Bm] _ _ _ [A] _
_ _ _ [D] _ _ Thank _ _ _ _ _ _ [G#] you. _