Hey, Fixer

Rabbi:
This evening's sermon is a tale from my youth,
A tale of things that have been.
About a noble man who quested for truth,
And found the answer within.
This man was loved and hailed by all,
When I wore a younger rabbis shawl.

Indeed the Fixer was everyone's friend.
He was both skillful and nice.
And folks would bring him their trinkets to mend
And then stay for advice.

Townspeople:
Hey Fixer, look what morning brings...
More broken souls with broken things.
Hey Fixer, work those tools
And make your honest pay.
There's a feastala waiting,
Wating at the end of the day.

Person 1:
Hey Mr. Fixer there's a hole in my porch,

Person 2:
And I need glue for my cane.

Person 3:
I burnt my hat playing catch with a torch,

Person 4:
And I've got weeds in my drain!

Townspeople:
Hey Fixer, fix my roof! My bed!

Person 5:
Hey, Fixer, fix my fish... he's dead!

Townspeople:
Hey, Fixer work those tools
And make your honest pay.
There's a feastala waiting,
Waiting at the end of the day.


No recording available
Copyright 1996 Zach London

Hard Taco Radio

Discography