"Market Street" lyrics - PAUL HEATON

Well we travelled in from Rochdale
With a beatbox and a mat
And we breakdanced for pennies
That you placed in our hat
And we came down and visited
Two or three times a week
For the wonders and wares
Of Market Street

And we may bring the kids to town for a treat
And always we'll drag them down Market Street
And we loved 50 Cent and 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
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 the Earth

We're Gypsy, we're Romany, we're readers of palms
We've tattoos of daughters and sons on our arms
And why we're on Earth it's obvious you see
It's to shop till we drop on Market Street

And we drifted in from 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
They're the grafters and the jibbers
Right under your feet

On Market Street, on Market Street
We'll browse and we'll wander
Till dead on our feet
On Market Street, on Market Street

Well we ventured in from 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

And we all knew the lads from the Roses
Back when they had nowt
And we knew Ricky Horton
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