The grey tunnel seems cold and empty,
Pictures of times gone by now dull and lifeless,
It's all quiet down in Southwark.
No gentle strum of the guitar,
No happy sounds of the accordion,
It's all quiet down in Southwark.
Gone is the gentle clanging of coins in an open case,
And the rumble of applause,
It's all quiet down in Southwark.
No ancient melodies from the east,
Or indie classics from the west,
It's all quiet down in Southwark.
The air is no longer filled with the sound of music,
Just a bold and sober sign; 'No Busking,'
It's all quiet down in Southwark.
The sounds of the City have passed on by,
Its characters are all gone,
Now it's far too quiet down in Southwark.
