Bottles and boxes and ten miles a day he walks slowly making his rounds

Picking up bottles and boxes and papers and anything else we'd throw down

He's hump-backed and wrinkled but unlike Van Winkel he doesn't sleep his life away

And he speaks so seldom that some of us wonder just what the old man has to say

Some folks laugh at him but he doesn't notice he goes right on bout his day

Picking up bottles and boxes and papers and pieces of life thrown away

[ piano ]

Too big and tattered the clothes that he's gathered from boxes thrown into the street

He hides from the rain under store building ownings and stays in a shade in the heat

Sisters and mothers and daddys and brothers he has none as far as I know

Just bottles and boxes they're his little Fort Knoxes

But to us they're just somethin' to throw

Some folks laugh at him...

[ piano ]

Bottles and boxes and ten miles a day he walks slowly making his rounds

Picking up bottles and boxes and papers and anything else we'd throw down