| Well, we travelled in from Rochdale
|
| With a beatbox and a mat
|
| And we breakdanced for pennies
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| That you placed in our hat
|
| And we came down and visited
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| Two or three times a week
|
| For the wonders and wares
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| Of Market Street
|
| And we may bring the kids
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| To town for a treat
|
| And always, we’ll drag them
|
| Down Market Street
|
| And we loved 50 Cent
|
| We sure loved Jay-Z
|
| We were East Coast, never West Coast
|
| On Market Street
|
| On Market Street
|
| Those Salford lads came
|
| And we chased them to Bridge Street and
|
| Back home again
|
| On Market Street
|
| The home of the brave
|
| Where the Dentons and the Gortons and
|
| Hydes came to save
|
| Well, we travelled in from Wigan (Wigan)
|
| And we journeyed in from Leigh
|
| And we headed straight for Poundland
|
| In our hands, just 50p
|
| And we came in from St. Helens
|
| We looked like peasants, looked like serfs
|
| Like a deal or a bargain
|
| Is why we’re here on this earth
|
| And we’re gypsy, we’re Romany
|
| Readers of palms
|
| We’ve tattoos of daughters
|
| And sons on our arms
|
| And why we’re on Earth
|
| It’s obvious, you see
|
| Is to shop till we drop
|
| On Market Street
|
| On Market Street
|
| Those Salford lads came
|
| And we chased them to Bridge Street and
|
| Back home again
|
| On Market Street
|
| The home of the brave
|
| Where the Dentons and the Gortons and
|
| Hydes came to save
|
| And we drifted in from Oldham (Oldham)
|
| And we drifted in by bus
|
| 'Cause those beggars and those buskers
|
| They’re just like one of us
|
| They’re both charming and disarming
|
| With just a fraction of deceit
|
| All the champions and heavyweights
|
| Of Market Street
|
| And we came in from nowhere
|
| By bus, train, and tram
|
| We’re Manchester’s finest
|
| We don’t give a damn
|
| 'Cause Manchester’s finest
|
| Are not the police
|
| It’s the grafters and the jibbers
|
| Right under your feet
|
| On Market Street
|
| Those Salford lads came
|
| And we chased them to Bridge Street and
|
| Back home again
|
| On Market Street
|
| The home of the brave
|
| Where the Dentons and the Gortons and
|
| Hydes came to save
|
| On Market Street
|
| On Market Street
|
| We’ll browse and we’ll wander
|
| Till dead on our feet
|
| On Market Street
|
| On Market Street
|
| We’ll always meander down
|
| Down Market Street
|
| Well, we ventured in from Milnrow (Milnrow)
|
| And we jetted in from Shaw
|
| None of us had yet decided
|
| As we began our little tour
|
| What on earth we’d ever purchase
|
| Who on earth we’d even see
|
| That’s the magic and mystery
|
| That’s Market Street
|
| And from Milnrow and Shaw
|
| You follow bright lights
|
| And bare-knuckle dating
|
| On Saturday nights
|
| But Monday to Friday
|
| We’re part of elite
|
| The hob-knobbing robbers
|
| Of Market Street
|
| On Market Street
|
| Those Salford lads came
|
| And we chased them to Bridge Street and
|
| Back home again
|
| On Market Street
|
| The home of the brave
|
| Where the Dentons and the Gortons and
|
| Hydes came to save
|
| On Market Street
|
| On Market Street
|
| We’ll browse and we’ll wander
|
| Till dead on our feet
|
| On Market Street
|
| On Market Street
|
| We’ll always meander down
|
| Down Market Street
|
| And we all the knew the lads from the Roses
|
| Back when they had nowt
|
| And we knew Ricky Hatton
|
| A decade before his first bout
|
| And we threw the first punch
|
| We strummed the first chord
|
| And we lived on their manor
|
| Before they were lord
|
| Now the fortunes have changed
|
| And they won’t let us in
|
| And we’re outside arena
|
| With a battered old tin
|
| And for the singer and the boxer, I bet
|
| Life’s still pretty sweet
|
| But for the rest of us, hope still resides
|
| Down Market Street
|
| For the rest of us, hope still resides
|
| Down Market Street
|
| For the rest of us, hope still resides
|
| Down Market Street… |