I was talking to a swaggy yesterday Oh his beard was long his hair was silver grey His dress was out of style But he wore a friendly smile And here is what the old man had to say You may think me most unusual my boy
When I tell you straight that I am stoney broke I tramp from year to year And I'll drink all kinds of beer But I must have good terbaccy when I smoke
Now I tell you this here old tobaccy tin And the paint is gone the sides are dented in And it's opened many a bottle In it's wild and chequered life And to me it has always been a friend
I one time had wife and everything But a strange came and soon we were apart So I left my friends and home And I hit the road to roam But nicotine has mended my old heart
Now when finally they reach the golden gate They say Saint Peter he's a decent bloke If I'm taken with the blessed This will be my last request Oh I liked to have good baccy when I smoke
Yes I was talking to that swaggy yesterday And what he told me I'll remember clear Tramping out there with the breeze Happy as the birds and bees And I reckon that he has the right idea.