Third-Class ticket in his pocket
|
Punching out the shadows underneath the sockets
|
Tweed coat turned up against the fog
|
|
Slow coaches rolling o'er the moor
|
Between the very memory
|
And approaches of war
|
|
Stale bread curling on a luncheon counter
|
Loose change lonely, not the right amount
|
|
Forgotten Man of an indifferent nation
|
Waiting on a platform at a Lancashire station
|
Somebody's calling you again
|
The sky is falling
|
Jimmie's standing in the rain
|
|
Nobody wants to buy a counterfeited prairie lullaby in a colliery town
|
A hip flask and fumbled skein with some stagedoor Josephine is all he'll get now
|
Eyes going in and out of focus
|
Mild and bitter from tuberculosis
|
|
Forgotten Man
|
Indifferent nation
|
Waiting on a platform at a Lancashire station
|
Somebody's calling you again
|
The sky is falling
|
Jimmie's standing in the rain
|
|
Her soft breath was gentle on his neck
|
If he could choose the time to die
|
Then he would come and go like this
|
Underneath a painted sky
|
|
She woke up and called him "Charlie" by mistake
|
And then in shame began to cry
|
Tarnished silver band peals off a phrase
|
And then warms their hands around the brazier
|
|
Forgotten Man
|
Indifferent nation
|
Waiting on a platform at a Lancashire station
|
Somebody's calling you again
|
It's finally dawning
|
Jimmie's standing in the rain
|
|
Brilliantine glistening
|
Your soft plaintive whistling
|
And your wan wandering smile
|
|
Died down at The Hippodrome
|
Now you're walking off to jeers, the lonely sound of jingling spurs, the "toodle-oos" and "Oh, my dears" down at "The Argyle"
|
|
Vile vaudevillians applaud sobriety
|
There's no place for a half-cut cowboy in polite society
|
|
Forgotten Man
|
Indifferent nation
|
Waiting on a platform at a Lancashire station
|
Somebody's calling you again
|
It's finally dawning
|
Jimmie's standing in the rain
|
|
-----------------
|
Jimmie Standing In The Rain
|
| Elvis Costello |
