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 a-walking says
"I'm going to call, call all my children home''.

Hope everybody's dancing to their own drum this fine morning
The beat of distant Africa or a Polish factory town
Old man, he's calling for his supper
Calling for his whisky
Calling for his sons and daughters, yeah
Calling all his children round.

Sharp ears are tuned in to the drones and chanters warming
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 it'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, and proving
Proving that the blood is strong.