I know about a man to whom I may be related, he`s leatherman. Died a long time ago in the 1880`s...leatherman, leatherman. Covered with leather, but it was tight. Underneath the moon in the woods at night...
Makin` the rounds ten miles a day, Once a month they`d spot him, here`s what they`d say... "Here he comes, he`s a man of the land. He`s leatherman. Smile on his face, an axe in his pack. He`s leatherman."
Comes out of the caves once a day to be fed. Wasn`t 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 he`d be an animal, but so polite.
Makin` the rounds ten miles a day. Once a month they`d spot him and here`s what they`d say... "Here he comes, he`s a man of the land, he`s leatherman. Smile on his face, an axe in his hand. He`s leatherman."
Shake his hand he`s leatherman. Bake some bread he`s leatherman. Shame he`s dead. I saw his bed, It`s all that`s left of leatherman.
Give me some skin, leatherman.
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