The Old A1
(Words © Pete MacGregor, tune Trad. Arr. Pete MacGregor)

I still think on the old A1, before the motorway
When I was young in London Town and working night and day
And when the job was over, I'd bundle up my load.
I'd kiss the lass, say "Cheerio" and head north up the road.

From Oxford Street to Princes Street is near four hundred mile'.
A bite to eat, a sip to drink, I'd likely walk awhile.
Maybe I'd find a truckers' caff to warm me in the night
Or sit high in a Foden cab and watch the morning light.

It's quickly up through southern shires - the Pennines into view.
I've seen three ridings hills and fields, the towns are far and few
A squaddie bound for Catterick Camp might help me on my way
Scotch Corner's famed to travellers all - there's wagons night and day.

I've walked across the Tyne's high brig and on through Alnwick Town
Seen floating in the North Sea mist the tops o' Lindisfarne
And soon by Berwick's ancient walls and Scotland's 'neath the wheel,
The hills and sea are much the same but home is what you feel.

Aye winter night near old Dunbar in the bright light o' the moon,
To keep mysel' in spirit I was singing mysel' a tune.
My feet were crunchin' in the snow - he silent passed my by.
His hood pulled up, coat to the ground; I saw not face nor eye.

I've stood on top o' Tranent Hill, the city clear in view
Soon Leith Walk, the old High Street, among the friends I knew
From Smoke to Reekie in a day, my world's goods in my pack.
You make your pelf in London Town, spend it when you're back.

They're saying the road is safe no more, the hitcher seldom seen.
I never felt in danger no matter where I've been.
I've travelled north and east and west and south o' Hadrian's Wa'
To those that helped a young Scots lad, I thank you one and a'.