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A NOTE ABOUT PUBLISHING


Want to license a Woody Guthrie song?

If you are interested in licensing a song for publication, recording, performance, or other, please contact the publisher.

Questions? Contact Anna Canoni at: acanoni(at)woodyguthrie.org

All works by Woody Guthrie are held under U.S. Copyright Law.


PUBLISHER'S CONTACT
Look at the bottom of each lyric page to find the correct publisher.

TRO-Essex Music Group
Attn: Sarah Smith
266 West 37th Street, 17th Floor
New York, NY 10018-6609
T: 212-594-9795 x25
Email
Website


Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc.
(Administered by BMG Chrysalis)
Attn: Gregg Barron
6100 Wilshire Boulevard, Suite #1600,
Los Angeles, CA 90048
T: (323) 969-0988
Email
Website


Sanga Music Group
(Administered by Bicycle Music)
449 South Beverly Drive, Suite 300
Beverly Hills, CA 90212 
T: 310-286-6600
Website


Michael Goldsen Music, Inc.
MGA
(Administered by Universal Music)

2100 Colorado Avenue
Santa Monica, CA 90404
T: (310) 235-4892
Email
Website


 

 

My Name Is New York
Words and Music by Woody Guthrie

I'm the town called New York,
I was struck by the winds;
I been froze and been blistered
And then struck again;
I was struck by my rich folks,
And struck by my bums,
Struck by my mansions,
And struck by my slums.

I was hit with disease
And with trouble and pain;
And I've seen my kids die
Under car wheels and trains;
I smelled the smoke roll
When it come from some hole
Where a cigaret spark
Killed a thousand good souls.

I'm the town called New York,
I'm a brick on a brick;
I'm a hundred folks running
And ten dying sick;
I'm a saint, a bum, a whore and her pimp;
And your ocean's the mirror I look in to primp.

I'm a sewer pipe and a steam cloud
And a little girl fell down;
My lights shine thrie brightest
When my nightgown comes down.

I'm vulgar, I'm legal,
Illegal and wild;
I'm the Hudson and East river's
One lost lonesome child.

I'm a stone on a stone;
I'm a rock on a rock;
And I comb my hairs back
With those ships in their locks.

Ten million wild notions
Are fighting in me,
To speak a little plainer
And try to agree.

I read mountains of books
Every day but I'm frisky;
I wash down my brain cells
With Hundred proof whiskey.

I work and I slave
And I bless and abuse;
I waste twice as much
As I ever could use.

I'm the town called New York
With my all color paint;
And I curse and I run
And I hide and I faint.

I juice my blood full
Of every known dope;
And I'm the worlds biggest howler
Of nice friendly hope.

I been here so long
That the weeds has forgot;
And I intend to stand
Right here till I rot.

I'll see if my bad habits
Can ever tear down
More than my good ones
Can build up around.

I come here to look
For a nice standing place;
To make a scientific test
For the whole human race.

I'm going to try
Every earthly mistake
And see if your hands
Can fix me back straight.

I might boil and blow
And shake to the ground
And smoke and tremble
And blaze all around.

And no matter how low
Or how high I might fall;
Just remember, New York
Is the name I am called.

 


© Copyright Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc. & TRO-Ludlow Music, Inc. (BMI)
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