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