Leatherman (Live in Mansfield, Massachusetts - July 11, 2003)

I know about a man to whom I may be related, he's leatherman. Died a long time ago in the 1880's...leatherman, leatherman. Covered with leather, but it was tight. Underneath the moon in the woods at night... Makin' the rounds ten miles a day, Once a month they'd spot him, here's what they'd say... "Here he comes, he's a man of the land. He's leatherman. Smile on his face, an axe in his pack. He's leatherman." Comes out of the caves once a day to be fed. Wasn't known to say but "Thanks for the bread." So modern day I walk my way, my jacket faded, Just like a man of leather whom I may be related. Rolled a cigarette, but when he asked for a light, I thought he'd be an animal, but so polite. Makin' the rounds ten miles a day. Once a month they'd spot him and here's what they'd say... "Here he comes, he's a man of the land, he's leatherman. Smile on his face, an axe in his hand. He's leatherman." Shake his hand he's leatherman. Bake some bread he's leatherman. Shame he's dead. I saw his bed, It's all that's left of leatherman. Give me some skin, leatherman.