time ago in the 1880s...leatherman, leatherman. Covered with leather, but it wasnt tight. Underneath the moon in the woods at night...
Makin the rounds ten miles a day, Once a month theyd spot him, heres what theyd say... "Here he comes, hes a man of the land. Hes leatherman. Smile on his face, an axe in his pack. Hes leatherman."
Comes out of the caves once a day to be fed. Wasnt known to say but "Thanks for the bread."
So modern day I walk my way, my jacket faded, Just like a man of leather whom I may be related.
Rolled a cigarette, but when he asked for a light, I thought hed be an animal, but so polite.
Makin the rounds ten miles a day. Once a month theyd spot him and heres what theyd say... "Here he comes, hes a man of the land, hes leatherman. Smile on his face, an axe in his hand. Hes leatherman."
Shake his hand hes leatherman. Bake some bread hes leatherman. Shame hes dead. I saw his bed, Its all thats left of leatherman.