In the snow there stands a hurdy-gurdy man
Who with his frozen fingers plays as best he can
Barefoot on the ice he shuffles to and fro
And his empty plate, it only fills with snow
And his empty plate, it only fills with snow
No one wants to hear his hurdy-gurdy song
Hungry dogs surround him and before too long
He will fall asleep and then before too long
He'll just let it happen, happen come what may
Play his hurdy-gurdy till his dying day
Watching you, old man, I see myself in you
One day I will play the hurdy-gurdy, too
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