Padraig Rushe - Greyworld

Way down the river by the old oak tree

There’s an old man, digging for gold in the stream

And he’s singing his song to people he meets

‘All men got to be free’


Way down the valley on Sycamore Street

There’s a young girl, dancing the shoes off her feet

And she’s selling her song to people she meets

Young girl got to the beat


It’s a Grey Old World ‘till you Open up your eyes and see

This interwoven tapestry, rich purple mountain majesty

It’s a cold, cold heart, can not hear the songs we’ve made

And deep inside a rhythm bathe, wash the city streets away


Anam dhomhanda, Anam an Domhain


Deep in a jungle of towering steel, there’s a young man battling against the will

Of the Presidents men, economist sin, never knew his name

And where did she go and what did she do, the girl who used to live next to you

Grew up moved away to follow her dream, oh whatever that means



It’s a Grey Old World ‘till you Open up your eyes and see

This interwoven tapestry, rich purple mountain majesty

It’s a cold, cold heart, can not hear the songs we’ve made

And deep inside a rhythm bathe, wash the city streets away



Anam dhomhanda, Anam an Domhain