Bhuel phléascadar an ‘chicken man’ in Philly aréir
Phléascadar an tigh, arú
Ar an gclárchosán tá scata trodairí ‘fáil réidh
Tá an mafia go léir ‘g ullmhú.
Is tá trioblóid ag teacht chugainn ó stróinséirí
Is an D.A. ag lorg sóláis
Beidh ina chíor thuathail cheart ar an bpromanáid
An coimisiún cearrbhachais chun a chac a dhéanamh ina dhrárs.
Sea bhuel cailltear gach ní, béibí, gan aon bhréag
Ach cá bhfios nach dtagann ar ais gach ní ón éag
Cuir do smideadh ort, do chuid gruaige fite
Is buail liom anocht in Atlantic City.
Bhuel do fuaireas post is chuireas pinginí i leataobh
Ach tá fiacha orm nach mbeadh ar fhear iontaoibh’
Tharraingíos amach a raibh sa Central Trust
Is cheannaíos dhá thicéad ar an Coast City Bus.
Bhuel cailltear gach ní, béibí, gan aon bhréag
Ach cá bhfios nach dtagann ar ais gach ní ón éag
Cuir do smideadh ort, do chuid gruaige fite
Is buail liom anocht in Atlantic City.
Bhuel tá deireadh le hádh agus d’fhuaraigh ár ngrá
Ach fanfaidh mé leatsa go deo
Seo linn amach mar tá ór ar an trá
Sea cuir ort do stocaí, béibí , tá an oíche ag reo.
Is cailltear gach aon ní seans, gan aon bhréag
Ach cá bhfios nach dtagann ar ais gach ní ón éag
Hú hú
Bhuel tá post á lorg agam ach deacair a fháil
Níl ach buaiteoir is cailliúnaí ann, agus ná bí id’ sheasamh lasmuigh den Pháil,
Bhuel táim bréan de bheith fágtha arís is arís
Sea, a stór, bhuaileas leis an mboc seo, is táim chun gar beag a dhéanamh dó, sin sin.
Bhuel ‘s dócha cailltear gach ní, béibí, gan aon bhréag
Ach cá bhfios nach dtagann ar ais gach ní ón éag
Cuir do ghruaig in ord is gach rud fite
Is buail liom anocht in Atlantic City.
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Buail liom anocht in Atlantic City
Atlantic City
Well they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night
Now they blew up his house too
Down on the boardwalk they're getting ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do
Now there's trouble busting in from outta state
And the D.A. can't get no relief
Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade
And the gambling commissions hanging on by the skin of its teeth
Well now everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Well I got a job and tried to put my money away
But I got debts that no honest man can pay
So I drew what I had from the Central Trust
And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus
Now baby everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Now our luck may have died and our love may be cold
But with you forever I'll stay
We're going out where the sand's turning to gold
So put on your stockings, baby, 'cause the night's getting cold
And maybe everything dies, that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Hoo hoo
Now I've been looking for a job but it's hard to find
Down here it's just winners and losers and don't get caught on the wrong side of that line
Well I'm tired of coming out on this losing end
So honey last night I met this guy and I'm gonna do a little favor for him
Well I guess everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your hair up nice and set up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City
Meet me tonight in Atlantic City