| Joseph was a tin man
|
| Came far across the sea
|
| He came to buy my tin
|
| His nephew came with him
|
| A lad from Galilee
|
| I’d meet them at the quay
|
| They’d always stay with me
|
| «Romans have no sway here»
|
| He always used to say
|
| «At home they kill for fun
|
| Hang men out in the sun
|
| On crosses every day
|
| That is the Roman way
|
| All rebels they will slay
|
| This is a perfect place here
|
| For free men to walk»
|
| On nights with breezes cool
|
| He’d sit by a pool
|
| And his nephew would talk
|
| In the evening they’d walk
|
| And quietly they’d talk
|
| He hated going back there
|
| «I'll return one day» he said
|
| «This is the land I love
|
| And this is where I’ll live
|
| When my work is done» he said
|
| «When I’m done with tin and lead
|
| I’ll come back here» he said
|
| I hear he’s on the marsh now
|
| With a church of wattle daub
|
| He’s found his sacred place
|
| All wisdom and grace
|
| And God and his word
|
| He’s living undisturbed
|
| Or so I have heard
|
| Yes, Joseph was a tin man
|
| Came far across the sea
|
| He came to buy my tin
|
| His nephew came with him
|
| A lad from Galilee
|
| A prophet, seemingly
|
| The man from Galilee |