The island, it is silent nowBut the ghosts still haunt the wavesAnd the torch lights up a famished manWho fortune could not save
Did you work upon the railroad?Did you rid the streets of crime?Were your dollars from the White House?Were they from the Five-and-Dime?
Did the old songs taunt or cheer you?And did they still make you cry?Did you count the months and yearsOr did your teardrops quickly dry?
"Ah, no", says he, "it was not to beOn a coffin ship I came hereAnd I never even got so farThat they could change my name"
Thousands are sailingAcross the western oceanTo a land of opportunityThat some of them will never seeFortune prevailingAcross the western oceanTheir bellies fullTheir spirits freeThey'll break the chains of povertyAnd they'll dance
In Manhattan's desert twilightIn the death of afternoonWe stepped hand in hand on BroadwayLike the first man on the moon
And a blackbird broke the silenceAs you whistled it so sweetAnd in Brendan Behan's footstepsI danced up and down the street
Then we said goodnight to BroadwayGiving it our best regardsTipped our hats to Mister CohenDear old Times Square's favourite bard
Then we raised a glass to JFKAnd a dozen more besidesWhen I got back to my empty roomI suppose I must have cried
Thousands are sailingAgain across the oceanWhere the hand of opportunityDraws tickets in a lotteryPostcards we're mailingOf sky light skies and oceansFrom rooms the daylight never seesAnd lights don't glow on Christmas treesAnd we danced to the musicAnd we danced
Thousands are sailingAcross the western oceanWhere the hand of opportunityDraws tickets in a lotteryWhere e'er we go, we celebrateThe land that makes us refugeesFrom fear of priests with empty platesFrom guilt and weeping effigiesStill we dance to the musicAnd we dance
by Philip Chevron
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Thousands are sailing
ReplyDeleteAgain across the ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
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