Bottles and boxes and ten miles a day he walks slowly making his rounds Picking up bottles and boxes and papers and anything else we'd throw down He's hump-backed and wrinkled but unlike Van Winkel he doesn't sleep his life away And he speaks so seldom that some of us wonder just what the old man has to say Some folks laugh at him but he doesn't notice he goes right on bout his day Picking up bottles and boxes and papers and pieces of life thrown away [ piano ] Too big and tattered the clothes that he's gathered from boxes thrown into the street He hides from the rain under store building Awnings and stays in a shade in the heat Sisters and mothers and daddys and brothers he has none as far as I know Just bottles and boxes they're his little Fort Knoxes But to us they're just somethin' to throw Some folks laugh at him... [ piano ] Bottles and boxes and ten miles a day he walks slowly making his rounds Picking up bottles and boxes and papers and anything else we'd throw downTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
