The Begging Song

 

Of all the trades in our hard times the Begging is the best

For when a beggar's tired he'll sit him down and rest

Well, I've been poor in Heidelberg, I've been poor in Bonn

Oh, rich enough to earn my living from a simple song

 

I don't rise at half past five to earn my daily bread

From the singing on the streets I do it's enough, I can be fed

I don't live in luxury or drive a very fast car

No holidays in Thailand or in Australia

 

I don't know the tax-man hope he don't know me!

For what I earn is beggar's bread and that belongs to me

A shilling in my pocket is worth it's weight in gold

For I have it in my hand and I will not let it go!

 

I don't get no good reviews no critics come to see me

The only VIPs I know are the good old men in green

“Excuse me Sir, do you know you can't be singing here

Those CDs that I see as well they're not allowed, I fear”

 

There are other places of course you must move on

'Cause in my trade you cannot dream to settle in one town

Oh, the world is at my fingertips so people are telling me

But every time I try to grasp it slips away from me!

 

The Begging is the best of trades, I really can't complain

Thirty years have gone since I began to sing in sun and rain

Oh, I will rest when I am tired and I heed no master's bell

A man would be daft to be a king when a beggar lives so well!