Poor Man’s Saviour

I’m the Lone Star Ranger,

Riding across Lonesome Plains,

Somehow I lost my way

On a strange Anniversary Day,

And you were the last to be told,

That I’d kinda lost my control,

Now I know why you treat me so cold,

‘Cos you think your last hope

Has been sold.

Won’t you please

Do the factory mean a favour,

You can’t make him believe

In a poor man’s saviour.

So you’re the poor man’s saviour,

Down by the factory gate,

Telling the factory man,

That you’ve got plenty to say,

But he’ll be the last to be told

That you felt you were getting too old,

To be playing political roles,

With the tedious factory folk.

written by: R.Clapton

publisher: Essex Music