Good Old Days - Black Mountain Session

Won't you meet me down,
Down by Barrack Street.
Where the sailors all come in to greet their families.
I heard an auld one speak of the emergency,
Hiding coal under a baby in it's pram.
That's where my mother's mother was raised on bread and butter
Mapping those streets in the creases of her palm.
Fathers converged on the bars
And prepared for the coming of the glimmer man.
We won't shed no tears for the good old days
But for talks sake we can mourn them in a song.
Truth be told, there what made up so I say god bless you
And bless all who belong to thee.
Won't you meet me down by the pork factory houses
Where the bicycles are all traveling in unison.
Where the latch is forever left on every door,
Keep your eyes peeled for the peelers in the dark.
We had love not money and to those that stung me
I would greet them all with the tipping of my cap.
Let's escape and go to a picture show in the picture house
Where the navies and the banshees roam.
We won't shed no tears for the good old days
But for talks sake we can mourn them in a song.
Truth be told, there what made up so
I say god bless you and bless all who belong to thee