Have you seen the old man
|
In the closed down market
|
Kicking up the papers with his worn out shoes
|
In his eyes you see no pride
|
Hands held loosely at his side
|
Yesterday's paper, telling yesterday's news
|
So how can you tell me you're lonely
|
And say for you that the sun don't shine
|
Let me take you by the hand
|
And lead you through the streets of London
|
I'll show you something
|
To make you change your mind
|
|
Have you seen the old girl
|
Who walks the streets of London
|
Dirt in her hair and her clothes in rags
|
She's no time for talking
|
She just keeps right on walking
|
Carrying her home in two carrier bags
|
|
So how can you tell me you're lonely
|
And say for you that the sun don't shine
|
Let me take you by the hand
|
And lead you through the streets of London
|
I'll show you something
|
To make you change your mind
|
|
In the old night cafe at a quarter past eleven
|
The same old man sitting there on his own
|
Looking at the world over the rim of his teacup
|
Each tea lasts an hour, and he wanders home alone
|
|
So how can you tell me that you're lonely
|
And say for you that the sun don't shine
|
Let me take you by the hand
|
And lead you through the streets of London
|
I'll show you something
|
To make you change your mind
|
|
Have you seen the old man
|
Outside the seaman's mission
|
Memory fading with the minor ribands that he wears
|
In our city winter the rain cries little pity
|
For one more forgotten hero
|
And a world which doesn't care
|
|
So how can you tell me you're lonely
|
And say for you that the sun don't shine
|
Let me take you by the hand
|
And lead you through the streets of
|
|
-----------------
|
Streets Of London
|
| Ralph McTell |
