Lyrics Freeman - Fiddler's Green

Freeman

I met him on the motorway, said he was a free man
And did I have a cigarette
Hed been all over travelling, looking for a little gold
He said with a laugh, I found nothing yet
He had to get out of Ireland
The police there theyve got a lot of tricks
They give a dog a bad name —
You better believe that it always sticks
And he was worried about the rain
Lord, hed never seen it rain so hard
And I was thinking about that flame that burned in his heart
Hed heard about a job in London town
He hit the road from Liverpool
But if your name is Pat or Michael
Some men treat you like a fool
And he loved to hear old Brady sing
He knew all the words to Arthur Mc Bride
And when I put it on my stereo
Old man broke right down and cried
He talked about a bar he knew in Dublin
Lord, he wished we were there tonight
And we talked about the travelling —
Sooner or later were gonna get it right
When I left him on that same motorway
It was a bright cafe in a dark night
And as I turned away to leave him
He said, Lady Luck may she treat you right