| From Cape Cod Light to the Mississip', to San Francisco Bay
|
| They’re talkin' 'bout this famous place, down Greenwich Village way
|
| They hootenanny all the time with folks from everywhere
|
| Come Sunday morning, rain or shine, right in Washington Square
|
| An' so I got my banjo out, jes' sittin', catchin' dust
|
| An' painted right across the case: «Greenwich Village or Bust!»
|
| My folks were sad to see me go, but I got no meanin' there
|
| So I said, «Goodbye, Kansas, Mo. And hello, Washington Square!»
|
| Near Tennessee, I met a guy who played 12-string guitar
|
| He also had a mighty voice, not to mention a car
|
| Each time he hit those bluegrass chords, you sure smelled mountain air
|
| I said, «Don't waste it on the wind. |
| C’mon to Washington Square.»
|
| In New Orleans, we saw a gal a-walkin' with no shoes
|
| An' from her throat there comes a growl, she sure was singin' the blues
|
| She sang for all humanity, this gal with raven hair
|
| I said, «It's for the world to hear, C’mon to Washington Square.»
|
| We cannonballed into New York on good old US 1
|
| Till up ahead we saw the arch, a-gleamin' bright in the sun
|
| As far as all the eye could see, ten thousand folks was there
|
| And singin' in sweet harmony right in Washington Square
|
| Say how’s about a freedom song, or the ole' «Rock Island Line»!
|
| Or how’s about the dust-bowl crop, or men who work in a mine?
|
| The songs and legends of our land is gold we all can share
|
| So come and join us folks who stand and sing in Washington Square |