A writer must “know and have an ever-present consciousness that this world is a world of fools and rogues… tormented with envy, consumed with vanity; selfish, false, cruel, cursed with illusions… He should free himself of all doctrines, theories, etiquettes, politics…” —Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914?). “The nobility of the writer's occupation lies in resisting oppression, thus in accepting isolation” —Albert Camus (1913-1960). “What are you gonna do” —Bertha Brown (1895-1987).
Streets of London by Ralph McTell (Sung & Played by Fred Holstein)
Have you seen the old man in the closed-down market Kicking up the papers in his worn-out shoes In his eyes, there is no pride, hung loosely at his side Yesterday’s paper telling yesterday’s news
(Refrain) So yes, I know, we get lonely Sometimes for us the sun don’t shine Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London I will show you somethin’ to make you change your mind
Have you seen the old girl who walks the streets of London Dirt in her hair; her clothes are all in rags She’s no time for talkin’; she keeps right on walkin’ Carrying her home in two carrier bags
(Refrain)
In an all-night café at a quarter past eleven Same old man, sitting all alone Looking at the world over the rim of a teacup Each tea lasts an hour, and he wanders home alone
(Refrain)
Have you seen the old man outside the seaman mission Memory fading with the medal ribbons that he wears In our wintry city, the rain cries a little pity For one more forgotten hero and a world that doesn’t care
Streets of London by Ralph McTell (Sung & Played by Fred Holstein)
ReplyDeleteHave you seen the old man in the closed-down market
Kicking up the papers in his worn-out shoes
In his eyes, there is no pride, hung loosely at his side
Yesterday’s paper telling yesterday’s news
(Refrain) So yes, I know, we get lonely
Sometimes for us the sun don’t shine
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I will show you somethin’ to make you change your mind
Have you seen the old girl who walks the streets of London
Dirt in her hair; her clothes are all in rags
She’s no time for talkin’; she keeps right on walkin’
Carrying her home in two carrier bags
(Refrain)
In an all-night café at a quarter past eleven
Same old man, sitting all alone
Looking at the world over the rim of a teacup
Each tea lasts an hour, and he wanders home alone
(Refrain)
Have you seen the old man outside the seaman mission
Memory fading with the medal ribbons that he wears
In our wintry city, the rain cries a little pity
For one more forgotten hero and a world that doesn’t care
(Refrain)