Tramp
The sun was low, and the shadow was cold,
On the pale drawn face, that was wrinkled and old,
A newspaper coat, hanging loose 'round his throat,
And the shoes on his feet, strips of leather tied up with rope,
His uncombed hair, and eyes that would stare,
At the people passing by, who didn't know or didn't care
Chorus:
This poor old man he's all alone,
He's got no money or no home of his own,
The back street's his kitchen,
The footpath's his hall,
And the chalk on the brick work,
Are the pictures on his wall,
He lays down his head,
On the pavement that's his bed,
And when he sleeps, his dreams fade away
He walks down the street, with his hands in his coat,
Looking down at his feet, for a dog-end he could smoke,
He thinks about food, good drinking and good fun,
As he searches through the dustbins, his life almost done
Repeat Chorus:
Vagabundo
O sol estava baixo, e a sombra era fria,
No rosto pálido e marcado, que era enrugado e velho,
Um casaco de jornal, pendurado solto em seu pescoço,
E os sapatos em seus pés, tiras de couro amarradas com corda,
Seu cabelo desgrenhado, e olhos que fitavam,
As pessoas passando, que não sabiam ou não se importavam.
Refrão:
Esse pobre velho tá sozinho,
Não tem dinheiro nem um lar pra chamar de seu,
A rua é sua cozinha,
A calçada é seu salão,
E o giz na parede de tijolos,
São as fotos na sua decoração,
Ele deita a cabeça,
No chão que é sua cama,
E quando dorme, seus sonhos se vão.
Ele anda pela rua, com as mãos no casaco,
Olhando pra seus pés, procurando um bituca pra fumar,
Pensa em comida, boa bebida e diversão,
Enquanto revirando os lixos, sua vida quase no fim.
Repete o Refrão: