Rambling outta the Wild West,
Leaving the towns I love the best,
Thought I'd seen some ups and downs
Till I come into New York town:
People going down to the ground,
Buildings going up to the sky.
Wintertime in New York town,
The wind blowing the snow around,
Walk around with nowhere to go,
Somebody could freeze right to the bone –
I froze right to the bone.
New York Times said it was the coldest winter in seventeen years –
I didn't feel so cold then.
I swung on to my old guitar,
Grabbed hold of a subway car,
And after a rocking, reeling, rolling ride
I landed up on the downtown side,
Greenwich Village.
I walked down there and ended up
In one of them coffeehouses on the block.
I'd get on the stage and sing and play,
Man there said, "Come back some other day.
You sound like a hillbilly.
We want folksingers here."
Well, I got a harmonica job, begun to play,
Blowing my lungs out for a dollar a day.
I blowed inside out and upside down,
The man there said he loved my sound,
He was raving about how he loved my sound –
Dollar a day's worth.
Now, after weeks and weeks of hanging around,
I finally got a job in New York town.
In a bigger place, bigger money too,
Even joined a union, paid my dues.
Now, a very great man once said
That some people rob you with a fountain pen.
It don't take too long to find out
Just what he was talking about.
A lot of people don't have much food on their table,
But they got a lot of forks and knives –
And they gotta cut something.
So, one morning when the sun was warm
I rambled out of New York town,
Pulled my cap down over my eyes,
Headed out for the western skies.
So long, New York!
Howdy, East Orange!