In Brooklyn - Al Stewart
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Sat down to play on a doorstep
Saying "Come back to my place I will show you the stars and the signs.
So I followed her into the black lands,
Where the window frames peel and flake,
And the old Jewish face behind the lace peeping out trying to get to see what's cooking.
Just John the Baptist in the park getting laid thinking there's no one looking,
And it's 80 degrees and I'm down on my knees in Brooklyn
Her house was dusty collection of rusty
Confusion with landings and tunnels
And leaning bookcases and spaces and faces and things
Where twentyfive Puerto Ricans
Manhattan Mohicans and,
Jewish Italian pawnbrokers
Lead their theatrical lives in the room and the wings
And outside in the black lands,
The violent day runs wild,
And the black and white minstrels run through the crazy alleys while the cops go booking
And it's 80 degrees and I'm down on my knees
In Brooklyn
And oh, I'm back in the city again,
You can tell by the smell of the
Hamburger stand in the rain
She spoke of astrology while muttering apologies for
Coffee that tasted of hotdogs
I said "that's okay, mine was cold anyway and just grand!"
Then we lay on the bed while the radio fed us with
Records and adverts for cat food
And I looked at her holding my thoughts in the palm of my hand
And outside in the black lands
The evening came and went
And the bums in the street begging money for one last drink are hanging 'round the liquor stores trying to get a foot in
And the girl from Pittsburgh and I made love on the mattress
With the new moon looking
And in the cool evening breeze I was down on my knees
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In Brooklyn Lyrics
Oh I've come from Pittsburgh to study astrology she
Said as she stepped on my instep
"I could show New York with a walk between Fourth Street and Nine."
Then out of her coat taking seven harmonicas she
Sat down to play on a doorstep
Saying "Come back to my place I will show you the stars and the signs.
So I followed her into the black lands,
Where the window frames peel and flake,
And the old Jewish face behind the lace peeping out trying to get to see what's cooking.
Just John the Baptist in the park getting laid thinking there's no one looking,
And it's 80 degrees and I'm down on my knees in Brooklyn
Her house was dusty collection of rusty
Confusion with landings and tunnels
And leaning bookcases and spaces and faces and things
Where twentyfive Puerto Ricans
Manhattan Mohicans and,
Jewish Italian pawnbrokers
Lead their theatrical lives in the room and the wings
And outside in the black lands,
The violent day runs wild,
And the black and white minstrels run through the crazy alleys while the cops go booking
And it's 80 degrees and I'm down on my knees
In Brooklyn
And oh, I'm back in the city again,
You can tell by the smell of the
Hamburger stand in the rain
She spoke of astrology while muttering apologies for
Coffee that tasted of hotdogs
I said "that's okay, mine was cold anyway and just grand!"
Then we lay on the bed while the radio fed us with
Records and adverts for cat food
And I looked at her holding my thoughts in the palm of my hand
And outside in the black lands
The evening came and went
And the bums in the street begging money for one last drink are hanging 'round the liquor stores trying to get a foot in
And the girl from Pittsburgh and I made love on the mattress
With the new moon looking
And in the cool evening breeze I was down on my knees
In Brooklyn
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