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On the grounds of Brooklyn
High Times, Hard Times

Uh...seventh song?? I lost count. 

Sung by Medda and the Newsies

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High times, hard times
Sometimes the living is sweet
And sometimes there's nothing to eat
But I always lands on my feet
So when there's dry times
I wait for high times and then I put on my best
And I stick my chest
And I'm off to the races again!

My good friend the Mayor
He called me today
He said, "Medda, the voters are turning away!"
"Help me!" he cried, "Or they'll give me the ax!"
I said, "Your Honor,"
"You've got to relax!"
Everybody!

High times, hard times
Sometimes the living is sweet
And sometimes there's nothing to eat
But I always lands on my feet
So when there's dry time
I wait for high times and then
I put on my best
And I stick out my chest
and I'm off to the races again!

So your old lady don't love you no more
So you're afraid there's a wolf at your door
So you got street rats that scream in your ear
You win some, you lose some, my dear!

Oh, high times, hard times
Sometimes the living is sweet
And sometimes there's nothing to eat
But I always lands on my feet
So when there's dry times
I wait for high times and then
I put on my best
And I stick out my chest
And I'm off to the races again!
I put on my best
I put on my best
Ah, yes, and I stick out my chest!
And I sticks out my chest!
And I'm off!
And I'm off!
And I'm off!
And I'm off!
And I'm off to the races again!