Streets of London
Have you seen the old man, in the closed-down market
picking up the papers, with his worn-out shoes?
In his eyes you see no pride, and held loosely by his side
yesterday's papers, telling yesterday's news
So how can you tell me, you're lonely
and say for you that the sun don't shine?
Let me take you by the hand, and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something, to make you change your mind
Have you seen the old gal, who walks the streets of London
dirt in her hair, and her clothes in rags?
She's no time for talking, she just keeps right on walking
Carrying her home, in two carrier bags
And in the all-night cafe, at a quarter past eleven
some old man sitting there, all on his own
Looking at the world, over the rim of his tea-cup
Each day lasts an hour, then he wanders home alone
And have you seen the old man, outside the seaman's mission?
His memory's fading, with those medal ribbons that he wears
And in our winter city, the rain cries little pity
For one more forgotten hero, and a world that doesn't care