Man Without A Care Paroles

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
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