|
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 |
|
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 |
|
Have you seen the old man |
|
Outside the seaman's mission |
|
Memory fading with the minor ribands that he wears |
|
In our winter city the rain cries little pity |
|
For one more forgotten hero |
|
And a world which doesn't care |