Goin' to the Gate of Horn in my memory
Red light flickerin' on the tablecloth
Big, dark beer in front of me
How I wish that I was there, standin' at the bar
Listen to Mr. Gibson play on his fine guitar
It's a big, old twelve-string and it went like this
Gate of Horn, Gate of Horn
Glad I was Chicago born
Gate of Horn meant everything to me
I was barely seventeen
Little salty and a little green
Gate of Horn meant everything to me
There was Judy and Peter and Josh and Odetta
The Clancies and Mary and Paul made it better
And Grossman and Tommy and Dickie and Lou
And when one was looking McGuinn was there too
Then they came and tore it down
Songbirds scattered and we all left town
Gate of Horn meant everything to me
Oh, Gate of Horn, Gate of Horn
Glad I was Chicago born
Gate of Horn meant everything to me
