Nobody had nothin -
There was nothin t get -
Instead a bein drawn for money you were drawn for for other people
Everybody used t hang around a heat pipe poundin subterranean coffeehouse called the Gaslight -

it was at that time buried beneath the middle a MacDougal Street -
It was a strange place an not out a any schoolbook -
More'n seven nites a week the cops a n firemen'd storm down the steps
handin out summons for trumped up reasons -
More'n five nites a week out a town bullies'd start trouble an everybody

from John the owner t Dave the cook t Rod the cash register ringer t
Adele the waitress t anybody who was on the stage t just plain friends
who were hangin around would have t come up swingin dishes an handles
an brooms an chairs an sometimes even swords at hung on the wall in order t match the bullies' weight an the bullies was always big bullies -
Everybody that hung out at the Gaslight was close -
Yuh had t be -

In order t keep from going insane an in order t survive -
an it can't be denied -
It was a hangout -
But not like the street corner -
Down there we weren't standin lookin out at the world watchin girls - an findin' out how they walk -

We was lookin at each other ... an findin out about ourselves -
It is 'f these times that I remember most sadly -
For they're gone -
an they'll not never come again -
It is 'f these times I think about now -
I think back t one a them nites when the doors was locked an maybe
thirty or forty people sat as close t the stage as they could -
It was another nite past one o'clock an that meant that the tourists on
the street couldn't get in -

At these hours there was no tellin what was bound t happen -
Never never could the greatest prophesizor ever guess it -
There was not such a thing as an audience -
There was not such a thing as performers -
Everybody did something -
An had somethin t say about somethin -
I remember Hugh who wore different kinda clothes then but still shouted an' tongue twisted flowin lines a poetry that anybody who could be struck by the sounds 'f a rock hittin a brick wall could understand -

I remember Luke playin his banjo an singin "East Virginia" with a tone
as soft as the snow outside an "Mr. Garfield" with a bitin touch as hard
as the stovepipe on the inside -
An Dave singin "House a the Risin Sun" with his back leaned against the bricks an words runnin out in a lonesome hungry growlin whisper that any girl with her face hid in the dark could understand -

Paul then was a guitar playin singer comedian -
But not the funny ha ha kind -
His funnyness could only be defined an described by the word "hip" or "hyp" -

A combination a Charlie Chaplin Jonathan Winters an Peter Lorre -
Maybe it was that nite that somebody flicked a piece a card-
board in front a the tiny spotlight an he made quick jerky movements on
the stage an everybody's eyes was seein first hand a silent movie for real -

The bearded villain 'f an out a print picture -
There aint room enuff on the paper t tell about everybody that was there
an exactly what they did -
Every nite was a tree high degree novel -
Anyway it was one a these nites when Paul said
"Ya gotta now hear me an Peter an Mary sing"

Mary's hair was down almost t her waist then -
An Peter's beard was only about half grown -
An the Gaslight stage was smaller
an the song they sang was younger -
But the walls shook
An everybody smiled -
An everybody felt good -
An down there approval didn't come with the clappin a hands at the end 'f the song -
It came burstin out anytime any way it felt like burstin out -

An they were approved -
By the people watchin'm and by 'mselves -
Which really was one -
An that's where the beginning was at -
Inside them walls 'f a subterranean world -
But it's a concrete kind a beginnin -

It's concrete cause it's close -
An it's close cause it's gotta be close -
An that feelin aint be forgotten
Yuh carry it with yuh -
It's a feelin that's born an not bought
An it cant be taught -
An by livin with it yuh learn t see and know it in other people -
T sing an speak as one yuh gotta think as one -
An yuh gotta believe as one -
An yuh gotta feel as one -
An Peter an Paul an Mary're now carryin the feelin that was inside them walls up the steps t the whole outside world -

The rooster never crowed on MacDougal Street -
There was no dew on the grass an the sun never came shinin over the
mountain -
There was nothin t tell yuh it was mornin cept the pins and needles feelin
in yer arms an legs from stayin up all nite -
But all 'f us find our way a knowin when it's mornin -
an once yuh know the feelin it dont change -