I stood at the top of Piper's Hill at Menary's drapery store,
And thought as a wee lad going to school, Menary's clothes I wore,
And my memory quickly hastened down the hill and then to stop,
At a place where many a time I had, it was Postals Barber Shop,
And next to him the shoe repairs, with his shoes stacked high and deep
And two doors just below this, was Phillip's the chimney sweep,
I recalled the wee out' houses, each with the out' half door,
The shutters on the windows, and stone tiles on the floor.
Then further on to the foot of the hill to the top of Barnsley's Row,
Where Colson's had their factory, and my pace began to slow,
And looking ail around me, and remembering what I could,
A car park is erected now where that out' factory stood
I could picture Barnsley's Row so plain, as it looked in days gone by,
Recalling those who lived there, as I urged my memories eye!
The only out' thing here abouts, is the I.O.G.T. Hall,
Where my memory reminisces the good times had by all.
Then climbing on to Sinclair's Row, past the middle of the hill,
I came to where Bradbury's Buildings were, but the buildings now were still,
No people in their door-ways, in that wee ould cul-de-sac,
I remembered those who lived there, as my memory took me back.
There was Lizzie Kidd, and Maggie, then Hamilton and Scott,
The Porters and the Campells, and, of Spence quite a lot,
There was Furphy, Cord and Dickie, Clarke and Gilliland
All decent honest people, and a credit to this land.
Then straight ahead to the top of the hill, where the four roads seem to meet,
The two ould corner shops are gone, at the foot of oul Church Street,
I remember well McComiskeys, for upholstery was their trade,
And like all craftsmen of the past, took pride in what they made,
And I could not help recalling, their wee ould horse and trap,
They used to transport all their wares from their factory to the shop.
But standing here I'm saddened, at the sight that I did see,
For Sinclair's Row's completely gone, and I thought how could this be
For it's here that I was born and reared, a happy childhood spent,
And some here reared the same as me, to greater heights have went,
But you know that's not the case for me, for fortunes let me down,
And sure I've often asked myself, was I wise to leave this town
For my own kin's still abiding here in these new homes facing me,
My mother's number is fifty-nine, sure it's her I've come to see
But I will leave you now in passing, a thought to cross your mind
Would the oul' folks gone before us change places with us that's left behind.