He sat at the Old Inn Table His boots clattered round The keeper kept no words No man dare a sound He lit up a pipe in there The smoke was thick and black Leather Gloves that helped him And slowly escaped the back No man could see with eyes All that's left was smoke Settling for the fire The Man raised a hoax He turned round to the Barkeep And stared with rounded eyes He was begging for some food It was something you could see