Streetsinger

 

In sunny Spain and cold England

There‘s a streetsinger

Timbuktu and Samarkand

A streetsinger

His music started long ago

It’s the oldest trade but one, you know

 

Streetsinger sing me a song

Of where you’ve been

And what you have done

Ways of the world, right and wrong

Oh, Streetsinger sing me a song

 

Guitar in hand, a drum on his back

The streetsinger

Money he earns, he throws in a sack

Streetsinger

From his looks you think he might be poor

His energy keeps the wolf from the door

 

In summer last year you saw this man

The streetsinger

Playing in the street in your holiday town

Streetsinger

Now winter’s come he’s wandered north

The new-born year will turn him south

 

Day-in, day-out he sings his songs

The streetsinger

Doesn’t take a break, he must go on

Streetsinger

He tours the towns from summer to spring

Doesn’t always need the money, he needs to sing

 

His cold, cold hands work in the snow

The streetsinger

Throw some money and away you go

To the streetsinger

You might wonder why he lives this way

As you pass him on a cold, cold day

You might not think and you might not care

He could be living anywhere