Текст песни The Collector - John Hartford
He
slips
in
around
you
When
you
are
asleep
Thru
attics
and
closets
He
silently
creeps
A
small
piece
of
cardboard
A
bottle
cap
there
An
old
ball
of
string
A
long
strand
of
hair
A
match
from
the
kitchen
A
small
piece
of
comb
With
barely
a
sound
He
turns
and
goes
home
The
Collector
is
waiting
To
look
thru
your
trash
To
handle
your
beads
And
pull
at
your
sash
To
read
thru
your
papers
And
look
thru
your
room
And
gently
withdraw
To
his
own
kind
of
gloom
And
then
with
a
sigh
And
nothing
to
say
The
Collector
goes
quietly
A
slinking
away
Your
thimbles
are
missing
The
hammer
is
gone
The
light
in
the
basement
It
shouldn't
be
on
He
mеsses
with
your
flowers
And
takes
an
old
shoе
Goes
thru
your
scrapbook
Before
he
is
through
Examines
your
figures
Your
cards
and
your
dates
And
the
The
Collector
He
just
evaporates
He
slips
it
around
you
When
you
are
asleep
Goes
thru
the
attic
and
closet
He
silently
creeps
A
small
piece
of
cardboard
A
bottle
cap
there
And
an
old
ball
of
string
A
long
strand
of
hair
A
match
from
the
kitchen
A
small
piece
of
comb
With
barely
a
sound
He
turns
and
goes
home
1 Dusty Miller Hornpipe and Fugue In a Major for Strings, Brass and 5 String Banjo
2 I've Heard the Tearstained Monologue You Do There By the Door Before You Leave
3 The Collector
4 A Short Sentimental (interlude)
5 Mr. Jackson's Got Nothing to Do
6 Open Rode Ode
7 Little Piece In D
8 The Poor Old Prurient Interest Blues
9 The Wart
10 Railroad Street
11 Another Short (But Not So Sentimental) (interlude)
12 Orphan of World War Two
13 The Little Old Lonesome Little Circle Song
14 I Don't Love Nobody
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