When you're from BostonYou join an Irish gangYou're surely Roman CatholicYou eat chowder every dayYou park your car at Harvard YardYou'll be buried at FenwayIs this the life you expect to hear me say?When you're from BostonMy father works down at the docksAll my brothers are Charlestown copsMother works up at the factoryThe Garden is my second homeThe Cape is the only beach I knowAnd we all hate NeilBut we love Sweet CarolineMovies and TV will show youEverything you think you knowAbout the place that's deep inside of meWhen you're from BostonYou join an Irish gangYou're surely Roman CatholicYou eat chowder every dayYou park your car at Harvard YardYou'll be buried at FenwayIs this the life you expect to hear me say?When you're from BostonI must admit we sound a bitLike a cartoon version of ourselves to youAnd I must admit we seem a bitLike the weather owns our cold hard attitudeAnd I must admit this part is trueWe are strong and we are proudWe are honest we are loudAnd we'll still say Cheers to youWhen nobody knows your name
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