Old Joe

Old Joe is a man who just wanders around.
He says he moves much better when he's on his own.
And he walks the lonely roads from town to town.
And he pushes his home around in a broken cart.
And he wears his ragged clothes and he plays the part.
And if nobody wants to talk to him, well that's okay
'Cause he's not too keen on talking anyway.

Old Joe is the man who just fixes the door.
When the hinges break and it catches the floor.
And he spends a lonely night on a bed of straw.
In the morning he'll be gone when you try to find him.
Some flowers by the door is all he leaves behind.
And if nobody wants to talk to him, well that's okay.
'Cause he's not too keen on talking anyway.

When it's winter time and the wind blows cold.
And the sheep are settled in the fold.
People wonder where the old man goes.
'Cause he disappears for two or three months or more.
But he'll be back on the road in spring just like before.
And if nobody wants to talk to him, well that's okay.
'Cause he's not too keen on talking anyway.

When I was a boy he was an old man then.
And the old folks knew him when they were young.
And now I'm growing old and he's still around.
I wonder if he's one of many that look the same.
Or maybe he's just a small part of the game.
And if nobody wants to talk to him, well that's okay.
'Cause he's not too keen on talking anyway.
And if nobody wants to talk to him, well that's okay.
'Cause he's not too keen on talking anyway.