Tekst:
Black 47 Black 47

It's Saturday night on the Lower East Side I'm sittin' here contemplatin' suicide I just got mugged down in Tompkins Square When a skinny-assed junkie

One starry night as I lay sleepin' One starry night as I lay in bed Dreamed I heard wagon wheels a'creakin' When I awoke, love, found you had fled I'

lays plots in London But she won't have my head The candle gutters The smell sweeps me back To the icy fields of Kinsale The bodies burning black Fire

Oh, oh, oh, oh Chuckie said, "I don't know what's goin' on I'm down on my knees and I'm ah uh losin' it Been up and down this New York town Lookin' for

Standing in your hallway, kiss your angel hair Hear your old grandmother recite her immigrant prayer She knew what you had to do, she'd probably kill

should be home by eleven Oh, me little dears dry up your tears Your parents are too busy makin' money Oh, Mammy dear, we're all mad over here Livin' in America Workin' with the black

Open up the door, she's standin' there With the smile in her eyes but the gray in her hair Betrays the fact you strayed far from home With your drinkin

The strobe was pulsin' in the after-hours, the booze was flowin' free When I first saw you across that room on down by Houston Street You were wrapped

to my Black Rose Still in love with my Black Rose She's up in heaven now, my Black Rose You won't be makin' love to my Black My Black Rose, he don't