Hope everybody's ringing on their
Own bell, this fine morning
Hope everyone's connected
To that long distance phone
Old man, he's a mountain
Old man, he's an island
Old man, he's awaking says
«I'm going to call, call all my children home»
Hope everybody's dancing
To their own drum this fine morning, yeah
The beat of distant Africa
Or a Polish factory town
Old man, he's calling for his supper
He's calling for his whiskey
Calling for his sons and daughters, yeah
Calling, calling all his children 'round
Sharp ears are tuned in
To the drones and chanters warming, yeah
Mist blowing 'round some headland
Somewhere in your memory
Everyone is from somewhere
Even if you've never been there
So take a minute to remember the part of you
That might be the old man calling me
How many wars you're fighting
Out there this Christmas morning?
Maybe there's always time
For another Christmas song
Old man, he's asleep now
He's got appointments to keep now
Dreaming of his sons and daughters
Proving, proving that the blood is strong