The cartwheel creaks on the old coach road
It's iron rim worn to the maker's code
Patchwork pots and mended dreams
A life stitched tight at the crooked seams
His hands know the weight of a thousand fixes
Widows' locks and farmers' vices But the
road's grown long and the light grows
thin And the tin won't mend what's broken within
Oh,
hammer falls where the shadows play
Mending the world for a coin a day
The fiddle cries with the tinker's tongue
Of roads walked young and hearts left hung
Sing, old man, sing through the dust and grime
The last mile's longer than all your time
He warmed his bones by the gypsy's
fire Trading spoons for fortunes' lie
The blacksmith's daughter with eyes so wise
Left a kiss and a nod in his tangled skies
Now the accordion wheezes that same old tune
As frost paints ghosts on his rusted moon
The road won't tell where her footsteps led
Just whispers soft where the willows spread
Oh,
hammer falls where the shadows play
Mending the world for a coin a day
The fiddle cries with the tinker's tongue
Of roads walked young and hearts left hung
Sing,
old man,
sing through the dust and grime The
last mile's longer than all your time
The crow flies low with the silver
thimble Payment due in the fading nimble
The anvil's song and the rivet's prime
Won't buy a minute from father time
Oh,
the mending's done when the hands grow still
And the road don't care for a tinker's will
Now the cart stands still where the
brambles twine The pots all quiet,
the tools align
The wind through the spokes hums his wandering
tune To the patchwork sky and the waning moon
And some say when the night winds call
You can hear his hammer mending it all