In sunny Spain and cold England, there's a streetsinger

Timbuktu and Samarkand, a streetsinger

His music started long ago

It's the oldest trade, but one, you know


Steetsinger sing me a song

Of where you've been and what you've done

Ways of the world, right and wrong

Streetsinger sing me a song!


Guitar in hand, a drum on his back, the streetsinger

Money that he earns he throws in a sack, streetsinger

From his looks you think he might be poor

His energy keeps the wolf from the door


Summer last year you saw this man, streetsinger

Playing in the street in your holiday town, streetsinger

Now winter's come, he's wandered north

The new-born year will turn him south


Day-in, day-out he sings his songs, streetsinger

Doesn't take a break, he must go on, streetsinger

He tours the towns from summer to spring

Doesn't always need the money, he needs to sing


His cold, cold hands work in the snow, streetsinger

Throw some money and away you go, to the Streetsinger

You might wonder why he lives this way

As you pass him on a cold, cold day


But you might not think and you might not care

He could be living anywhere



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