Every old man I see br Reminds me of my father br When he had fallen in love with death br One time when sheaves were gathered. br br That man I saw in Gardner Street br Stumbled on the kerb was one, br He stared at me half-eyed, br I might have been his son. br br And I remember the musician br Faltering over his fiddle br In Bayswater, London, br He too set me the riddle. br br Every old man I see br In October-coloured weather br Seems to say to me: br "I was once your father.