Talkin_New_York
All_Music_and_Lyrics_By_Bob_Dylan
Chorded_By_Russ_Stone
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Rambling_out_of_the_wild_west
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Leaving_the_towns_I_love_the_best
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Thought_Id_seen_some_ups_and_downs
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Till_I_come_into_New_York_town
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People_going_down_to_the_ground
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Buildings_going_up_to_the_sky.
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Wintertime_in_New_York_town
The_wind_blowing_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_didnt_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_coffee-houses_on_the_block
Got_on_the_stage_to_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_he_loved_my_sound
Dollar_a_days_worth.
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_the_Union_and_paid_my_dues.
Now,_a_very_great_man_once_said
That_some_people_rob_you_with_a_fountain_pen
It_dont_take_too_long_to_find_out
Just_what_he_was_talking_about
A_lot_of_people_dont_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
And_heated_out_for_the_western_skies
So_long_New_York
Howdy,_East_Orange
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