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The island it is silent now
And the torch lights up a famished man
Did you work upon the railroads
Were your dollars from the White House
Did the old songs taunt or cheer you
Did you count the months and years
Ah no, says he, twas not to be
And I never even got so far
Thousands are sailing
To a land of opportunity
Fortune prevailing
Their bellies full
They'll break the chains of poverty
In Manhattan's desert twilight
We stepped hand in hand on Broadway
And 'The Blackbird' broke the silence
And in Brendan Behan's footsteps
Then we said good night to Broadway
Tipped our hats to Mr. Cohan
Then we raised a glass to JFK
When I got back to my empty room
Thousands are sailing
Where the hand of opportunity
Postcards we're mailing
From rooms the daylight never sees
And we dance to the music
Thousands are sailing
Where the hand of opportunity
Where e'er we go, we celebrate
From fear of priests with empty plates
Now we dance to the music