He knew there was no future
Building ships or hewing coal
And he knew there was nothing for him
If he stayed here on the dole
So he picked his busted ball
Out of the back of the net
And kicked it off towards another goal

He packed all of his best clothes
And his photographs of home
And remembering his mother's warnings
To keep himself from harm
He said farewell to the land of council houses
And set off for the land of fatal charms

He left his home in the heart of the north
To seek streets paved with gold
But when he reached the golden land of dreams
He found he'd struck fools' gold

He thought that like Dick Whittington
They would parade him through the town
And shower him with golden handshakes by the load
Well they didn't make him lord mayor
But they made him king of the roads

And as he wandered down strange dark streets
And stared at all the strange faces in fear
He thought of streets he'd once known so well
And familiar faces that had once filled him with cheer

He left his home in the heart of the north
To seek streets paved with gold
But when he reached the golden land of dreams
He found he'd struck fools' gold

He knew that his harmonica was going out of tune
As he vamped 'The Blaydon Races' in the street
But as he passed his cap round he knew he needed money
And he knew too well he needed food to eat

Now some men work for silver
And some men work for gold
And some men work for bugger all
And that's all they can afford

He left his home in the heart of the north
To seek streets paved with gold
But when he reached the golden land of dreams
He found he'd struck fools' gold

He left his home in the heart of the north
To seek streets paved with gold
But when he reached the golden land of dreams
He found he'd struck fools' gold


(Gary Miller)