mungo jerry
tramp [*]
The sun was low, and the shadow was cold On the pale drawn face, that was wrinkled and old A newspaper coat, hanging loose 'round his throat And the shoes on his feet, strips of leather tied up with rope His uncombed hair, and eyes that would stare At the people passing by, who didn't know or didn't care  [Chorus:] This poor old man he's all alone He's got no money or no home of his own The back street's his kitchen The footpath's his hall And the chalk on the brick work Are the pictures on his wall He lays down his head On the pavement that's his bed And when he sleeps, his dreams fade away  He walks down the street, with his hands in his coat Looking down at his feet, for a dog-end he could smoke He thinks about food, good drinking and good fun As he searches through the dustbins, his life almost done  [Chorus:]