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On Hyndford Street
Take me back, take me way, way, way back
On Hyndford Street
Where you could feel the silence at half past eleven
On long summer nights
As the wireless played Radio Luxembourg
And the voices whispered across Beechie River
In the quietness as we sank into restful slumber in the silence
And carried on dreaming, in God
And walks up Cherry Valley from North Road Bridge, railway line
On sunny summer afternoons
Picking apples from the side of the tracks
That spilled over from the gardens of the houses on Cyprus Avenue
Watching the moth catcher working the floodlights in the evenings
And meeting down by the pylons
Playing round Mrs. Kelly's lamp
Going out to Holywood on the bus
And walking from the end of the lines to the seaside
Stopping at Fusco's for ice cream
In the days before rock 'n' roll
Hyndford Street, Abetta Parade
Orangefield, St. Donard's Church
Sunday six-bells, and in between the silence there was conversation
And laughter, and music and singing, and shivers up the back of the neck
And tuning in to Luxembourg late at night
And jazz and blues records during the day
Also Debussy on the third programme
Early mornings when contemplation was best
Going up the Castlereagh hills
And the cregagh glens in summer and coming back
To Hyndford Street, feeling wondrous and lit up inside
With a sense of everlasting life
And reading Mr. Jelly Roll and Big Bill Broonzy
And "Really The Blues" by "Mezz" Mezzrow
And "Dharma Bums" by Jack Kerouac
Over and over again
And voices echoing late at night over Beechie River
And it's always being now, and it's always being now
It's always now
Can you feel the silence?
On Hyndford Street where you could feel the silence
At half past eleven on long summer nights
As the wireless played Radio Luxembourg
And the voices whispered across Beechie River
And in the quietness we sank into restful slumber in silence
And carried on dreaming in God.
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And carried on dreaming in God.
And in the quietness we sank into restful slumber in silence
And the voices whispered across Beechie River
As the wireless played Radio Luxembourg
At half past eleven on long summer nights
On Hyndford Street where you could feel the silence
Can you feel the silence?
It's always now
And it's always being now, and it's always being now
And voices echoing late at night over Beechie River
Over and over again
And "Dharma Bums" by Jack Kerouac
And "Really The Blues" by "Mezz" Mezzrow
And reading Mr. Jelly Roll and Big Bill Broonzy
With a sense of everlasting life
To Hyndford Street, feeling wondrous and lit up inside
And the cregagh glens in summer and coming back
Going up the Castlereagh hills
Early mornings when contemplation was best
Also Debussy on the third programme
And jazz and blues records during the day
And tuning in to Luxembourg late at night
And laughter, and music and singing, and shivers up the back of the neck
Sunday six-bells, and in between the silence there was conversation
Orangefield, St. Donard's Church
Hyndford Street, Abetta Parade
In the days before rock 'n' roll
Stopping at Fusco's for ice cream
And walking from the end of the lines to the seaside
Going out to Holywood on the bus
Playing round Mrs. Kelly's lamp
And meeting down by the pylons
Watching the moth catcher working the floodlights in the evenings
That spilled over from the gardens of the houses on Cyprus Avenue
Picking apples from the side of the tracks
On sunny summer afternoons
And walks up Cherry Valley from North Road Bridge, railway line
And carried on dreaming, in God
In the quietness as we sank into restful slumber in the silence
And the voices whispered across Beechie River
As the wireless played Radio Luxembourg
On long summer nights
Where you could feel the silence at half past eleven
On Hyndford Street
Take me back, take me way, way, way back
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| OOn HHyndford SStreet |
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