G                          C
Ramblin' outa the wild West,
D
Leavin' the towns I love the best.
G                                  C
Thought I'd seen some ups and down,
          D                              F#  G
'Til I come into New York town.
C
People goin' down to the ground,
D                                       F#  G
Buildings goin' up to the sky.


Wintertime in New York town,
The wind blowin' 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 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 folk singer here."

Well, I got a harmonica job, begun to play,
Blowin' my lungs out for a dollar a day.
I blowed inside out and upside down.
The man there said he loved m' sound,
He was ravin' about how he loved m' sound;
Dollar a day's worth.

And after weeks and weeks of hangin' around,
I finally got a job in New York town,
In a bigger place, bigger money too,
Even joined the union and paid m' dues.

Now, a very great man once said
That some people rob you with a fountain pen.
It didn't take too long to find out
Just what he was talkin' about.
A lot of people don't have much food on their table,
But they got a lot of forks n' knives,
And they gotta cut somethin'.

So one mornin' when the sun was warm,
I rambled out of New York town.
Pulled my cap down over my eyes
And headed out for the western skies.
So long, New York.
Howdy, East Orange.

Copyright © 1962; renewed 1990 MCA