One coat and one hat
One small blanket and one small mat
A little fish of flesh and fat
A tiny fire to cook him at and these alone
That's all the traveler keeps
Between the stars and moon
And the clay on which he sleeps

You thumb 'em west and you wave 'em east
The road to hell is good and greased
For the con man or the parish priest
Who talk the most and say the least
Or the politician sitting there
With a beer gut and receding hair
Or the guitar man without a care
There's experts living everywhere
Still you're alone

I laid an aster on the headstone
Of Tomas O'Crohan
Where the heather and the nettles grow
Down in the sod, that's where we go
Just one short song with no refrains
Of work and kids and phones and planes
And love and hate and whips and chains
Our flesh will fail but the land remains
Alone

Now you thumb them east and you wave them west
You've itchy feet and a pounding chest
To cross the land you love the best
(O, a weary man that cannot rest!)
but there's folks out there you're bound to meet
in the sugar cane and the winter wheat
from the ghettos to the golden streets
a helping hand is hard to beat
when you're alone




Lyrics submitted by paddy_wood

Man Without a Care song meanings
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