Myself I made of nothing
And my head is stuffed with hail.
But my brother was a poet,
Or at least that's what they say
Myself I made of nothing
I'm just an all saran
My brother was a poet
And a very special kind of man
He painted scenes of dragons,
Knights in armour, bold and brave.
And show me how they rescue ladies fair.
And I killed a hundred dragons.
Rescue damsels in this dress
And that really isn't bad,
For a man who wasn't there.
Oh, myself I made of nothing,
My head is stuffed with hail.
But my brother was a poet,
Or at least that's what they say.
Myself I made of nothing.
I'm just an all saran,
My brother was a poet,
And a very special kind of man.
He's done so much with his fine words
To brighten up our last.
With his poems of the working man,
There mothers and there wife's.
Had a short life and a sweet one.
Had no time to plot or bland.
My brother was a poet
And a very special kind of man.
Oh, myself I made of nothing,
My head is stuffed with hail.
But my brother was a poet,
Or at least that's what they say.
Myself I made of nothing.
I'm just an all saran,
My brother was a poet
And a very special kind of man
Oh, myself I made of nothing,
My head is stuffed with hail.
But my brother was a poet,
Or at least that's what they say.
Myself I made of nothing.
I'm just an all saran,
My brother was a poet,
And a very special kind of man.
Writer(s): Roger Whittaker, Michael Richards
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