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Bindle Stiff

by
 When I was brash and gallant-gay
Just fifty years ago,
I hit the ties and beat my way
From Maine to Mexico;
For though to Glasgow gutter bred
A hobo heart had I,
And followed where adventure led,
Beneath a brazen sky.
And as I tramped the railway track I owned a single shirt; Like canny Scot I bought it black So's not to show the dirt; A handkerchief held all my gear, My razor and my comb; I was a freckless lad, I fear, With all the world for home.
Yet oh I thought the life was grand And loved my liberty! Romance was my bed-fellow and The stars my company.
And I would think, each diamond dawn, "How I have forged my fate! Where are the Gorbals and the Tron, And where the Gallowgate?" Oh daft was I to wander wild, And seek the Trouble Trail, As weakly as a wayward child, And darkly doomed to fail .
.
.
Aye, bindle-stiff I hit the track Just fifty years ago .
.
.
Yet now .
.
.
I drive my Cadillac From Maine to Mexico.

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