* This song's for you, the Geordie who,
one winter's day out of the blue,
Slipped me some firewood in my sack,
when you saw I was down on my luck.
You gave me warmth when I was bust,
unlike the local upper crust,
Seeing just one more hopeless case,
they slammed their doors right in my face.
Not a big deal, maybe, you'd say,
but that wood kept my body warm,
And in my soul a flame was born
that burns for you till this day.
Well, Geordie, when your time has come,
may angels fly to lead you home,
Straight to th' Eternal Father's breast,
endless joy and rest.
* This song's for you, landlady who,
one winter's day out of the blue,
Left me some bread-rolls at my hut,
when my stomach thought my throat was cut.
You gave me food when I was bust,
unlike the local upper crust,
Seeing a shiftless, breadless fake,
told me I should go and eat cake.
Not a big deal, maybe, you'd say,
but that bread kept my body warm,
And in my soul a flame was born
that burns for you till this day.
Landlady, when your time has come,
may angels fly to lead you home,
Straight to th' Eternal Father's breast,
endless joy and rest.
* This song's for you, the stranger who,
one winter's day out of the blue,
Gave me a sympathetic smile,
when the p'lice pulled me in for a while
You gave a smile when I was bust,
unlike the local upper crust,
Who were so keen at last to see
their streets being kept vagrant-free.
Not a big deal, maybe, you'd say,
but that smile kept my body warm,
And in my soul a flame was born
that burns for you till this day.
Well, stranger, when your time has come,
may angels fly to lead you home,
Straight to th' Eternal Father's breast,
endless joy and rest.