Conil - Old Irish Drunks

Well he left home one Sligo day and he kept on going until he came to a halt
And they heard nothing of their lost son since London had swallowed him up
Each night he drank himself to sleep in a town where he lived but did not belong
These streets were built by men who came from the earth then covered it up

They built these streets of Cricklewood
They built these streets of Kilburn
They built these streets of Cricklewood
And they built them good
Built them good

Living on the far edge he broke his toes in the High Road cold
His last days he told me how much he loved all he said he hated most

They built these streets of Cricklewood
They built these streets of Kilburn
They built these streets of Cricklewood
And they built them good
Built them good

And all the roads remain
And all the roads remain
And all the roads remain
And all the roads remain

Built them good
Built them good
Built them good
Built them good

Written by:
Philip Conil

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave

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