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A NOTE ABOUT PUBLISHING:

All works by Woody Guthrie are held under U.S. Copyright Law. If you are interested in using a song for publication, recording, performance, or other, please contact the appropriate publisher listed at the bottom of each lyric.

If you have questions, please feel free to contact Anna Canoni at: acanoni(at)woodyguthrie.org


PUBLISHER'S CONTACTS:

TRO-Essex Music Group
Attn: Christina Sayles
266 West 37th Street, 17th Floor
New York, NY 10018-6609
T: 212-594-9795 x24
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
E: info.us@bmgchrysalis.com
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.
6124 Selma Avenue
Hollywood, CA 90068


MCA Music Publishing
c/o Universal Music, Inc
2440 Sepulveda Boulevard, #100
Los Angeles, CA 90064


 

 

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)
Available on:

 

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