Tinker Tailor

As I was a-walking one bright summer’s day

„Hey-hey“ said the beggar, „get out of my way

Don’t give a damn for your children, your wife or your bed

It’s my street today and I’d like to be fed“

„From Strasbourg to London I’ve lived with your type

You get a licence to sing, you think you’re alright

You’re gentle, you’re cultured, too selfish to work

You take my trade away, the oldest trade on earth“

You’re a tinker, tailor

Soldier, sailor

Rich man, poor man

Beggarman, thief

Policemen came, took us all away

Cosy old ladies sipping lemon tea

„I don’t like your songs, I don’t like your voice

I don’t like like your ways, I don’t like your face

I haven’t got nothing but bring me some wine

I haven’t got nothing but plenty of time“

He smelled of the road, he smelled of his rags

He smelled of his beer, his piss and his fags

I could turn my face and sing to the wall

Many‘s the time it wouldn‘t matter at all