| It hardly seems a long time just a minute of the day
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| When the man who stood beside me more than gave himself away
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| The food stain on his spotted shirt a gray beard on his face
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| A man composed of many names so I just called him Ace
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| Ace can’t read and Ace can’t write and
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| He sleeps on a bench at night
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| A little man the world has left behind
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| He ain’t bitter he ain’t sweet
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| Makes his living on the street
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| Never knowin’what he’s gonna find
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| Born in Mississippi pickin’cotton as a child
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| Left soon for the city where he heard that life was wild
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| That was fifty years ago when nothin’s really strange
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| From a poor dirt farm to dirty streets is really not much change
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| Ace can’t read and Ace can’t write and
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| He sleeps on a bench at night
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| A little man the world has left behind
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| He ain’t bitter he ain’t sweet
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| Makes his living on the street
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| Never knowin’what he’s gonna find
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| Go back to the country no he really can’t do that
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| Wasted years have left him nothin’but an old straw hat
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| So he puts it on his head and waves a last good-bye
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| With no time left to turn around and no time to ask why
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| Ace can’t read and Ace can’t write and
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| He sleeps on a bench at night
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| A little man the world has left behind
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| He ain’t bitter he ain’t sweet
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| Makes his living on the street
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| Never knowin’what he’s gonna find
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| This old world has left poor Ace behind |