The West Ends

Just a walk in the park, Scollay Square after dark
I hear someone singin' «Is that Buddy Clark?»
This one’s a Bulfinch, I love every brick
The streets are so narrow and the accents are thick
Urban renewal, demolition, and the act of contrition
«Why would you live here in this condition?»
Why would they say that? This is our home
The West End’s the best, then
Why won’t they just leave us alone?
A very short walk, but it’s block after block
Brutalist buildings beyond the shock
Cement and the steel and the zero appeal
If this was where you called home, then how would you feel?
Urban renewal, demolition, and the act of contrition
«Why would you live here in this condition?»
Why would they say that? This is our home
The West End’s the best, then
Why won’t they just leave us alone?
Why won’t they leave us alone?
This is not squalor
It’s dollar to dollar
We don’t care about status
Or color or collar
This is not poverty
We don’t live in the slums
We are the working class poor
And we’re not just derelict bums
Urban renewal, demolition, and the act of contrition
«Why would you live here in this condition?»
Why would they say that? This is our home
The West End’s the best…
Urban renewal, demolition, and the act of contrition
«Why would you live here in this condition?»
Why would they say that? This is our home
The West End’s the best, then
Why won’t they leave us alone?
Why won’t they leave us alone?