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Dead Man's Boots - Sting |
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You see these work boots in my hands, |
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they'll probably fit ye now my son, |
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Take them, they're a gift from me, |
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why don't you try them on? |
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It would do your old man good to see you |
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walking in these boots one day, |
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And take your place among |
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the men who work upon the slipway. |
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These dead man's boots, |
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though they're old and curled, |
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When a feller needs a job and a place in the world, |
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And it's time for a man to put down roots, |
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And walk to the river in his old man's boots. |
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He said, "I'm nearly done and asking this, |
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that ye do one final thing for me! |
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You're barely but a sapling, |
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and you think that you're a tree. |
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If ye need a seed to prosper, |
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ye must first put down some roots. |
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Just one foot then the other |
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in these dead man's boots." |
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These dead man's boots know |
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their way down the hill, |
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They could walk there themselves, |
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and they probably will. |
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There's a place for ye there to sink your roots, |
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And take a walk down the river in these dead man's boots. |
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I said, "Why in the Hell would I do that? |
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And why would I agree?" |
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When his hand was all that I'd received, |
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as far as I remember. |
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It's not as if he'd spoiled me with |
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his kindness up to then ye see. |
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I'd a plan of me own and |
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I'd quit this place when I came of age September. |
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These dead man's boots know their way down the hill, |
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They can walk there themselves, and they probably will. |
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I'd plenty of choices, and plenty other routes, |
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And he'd never see me walking in these dead man's boots. |
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What was it made him think |
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I'd be happy ending up like him? |
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When he'd hardly got two halfpennies left, |
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or a broken pot to piss in. |
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He wanted this same thing for me, was that his final wish? |
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He said, "What the hell are ye gonna do?" |
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I said, "Anything but this!" |
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These dead man's boots know their way down the hill, |
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They can walk there themselves and they most likely will. |
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But they won't walk with me |
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'cos I'm off the other way, |
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I've had it up to here, I'm gonna have my say. |
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When all ye've got left is that cross on the wall? |
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I want nothing from you, |
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I want nothing at all. |
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Not a pension, nor a pittance, |
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when your whole life is through, |
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Get this through your head, |
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I'm nothing like you, |
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I'm done with all the arguments, |
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there'll be no more dispute, |
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And ye'll die before ye see me in your dead man's boots. |
