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RICK FORD ≈ Lyrics

Colinís Song
Rick Ford

He walked the hills and byways
Around my old home town,
His old boots were stuffed with papers
And his coat was wood smoked brown

Some people said heíd been a teacher
Some said heíd always been a tramp
And I heard people say heís stupid
The bugger must be mad

He lived on cigarettes and handouts
Had old cream cakes for tea
As I drove past him on my way to work
He seemed like a hero to me

He was free as a skylark
He had no chains to hold him down
The skyway was his palace
And his floor was Godís sweet ground

He looked like a soot streaked Father Christmas
As he walked down from his shack
With his ragged beard and mane of hair
And his sack upon his back

Once a year theyíd cut his hair
And shave off all his beard
And nobody recognised him
He looked like a sheep thatís just been sheared

When the Moorland winter froze the land
I found him sheltering from the storm
And when I asked him what he wanted
He said ĎIíd like some smokes to keep me warmí

He was free as a skylark
He had no chains to hold him down
The skyway was his palace
And his floor was Godís sweet ground

Sometimes at night Iíd see him standing
In the middle of the road
He was dazzled by the headlights
So Iíd stop to let him go

But he never moved, just stood there
Like an ancient tree
It was like heís part of something
Thatís forever closed to me

When Colin died a light went out
It was like Iíd lost a friend
Now when I drive down in to town
I still see him standing on the bend

They built a seat in Colinís honour
Up by the Market Square
But itís got old and itís got rusty
As if nobody seems to care

He was free as a skylark
He had no chains to hold him down
Now the skyway is his palace
And he rests in Godís sweet ground



Americana Music, Rick Ford, Songwriter, Smoke and Mirrors, Americana style, Staffordshire, UK.
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