A man without a job is a stranger to the seasons
|
The April rain will soak you like the worst November brings
|
And we're tired of the excuses and the carefully worded reasons
|
Without Winter there's no Summer
|
Without Autumn there's no Spring.
|
|
When the factories close down the life bleeds from the town.
|
Some politicians tells us, 'move and build another home',
|
But weren't they voted in to lead us?
|
No one said they had to feed us.
|
If they'd get us back our jobs
|
Then we would take care of our own.
|
|
Chorus
|
For a man without a job
|
Is a stranger to the seasons
|
No music to the cycle of the changes will he hear.
|
Like a band without a drummer
|
There's no Winter, Spring, or Summer
|
There's no rhythm to the passing of the
|
Months that make the year.
|
|
Everyone is poorer for the millions
|
Who keep growing
|
Whose season stays at Autumn
|
And whose only colour's grey
|
Though we get by on the dole
|
It feeds the body, starves the soul
|
And stirs the bitterness that's growing
|
In the ones who've been betrayed.
|
|
Chorus
|
|
-----------------
|
Stranger To The Season
|
Ralph McTell |