A Man Of Means - 1969

I’m a man of means, a peculiar guy
My home is the hedgerow, my roof is the sky
My carpet’s the grass, a log for my chair
I don’t have money, and I really don’t care

My pockets are empty, but my cup is filled
And my love for life has never been chilled
I sleep when I want and wake when I like
And I walk everywhere for I don’t own a bike

I haven’t a clock to stare at the hours
I’d much rather look at the beautiful flowers
I don’t like the cities, they’re all full of smoke
I am what you would call a natural bloke

My habits are simple, like the bird in the tree
I’m happy, I’m healthy and also I’m free
I’m not on the dole, yet I don’t do with nowt
When hungry I eat, and I always eat out

For nature is there to care for us all
For the rich and the poor, for big and small
The Earth is my Mother, to me she’s the best
She feeds me and cleans me and gives me my rest

I ramble and wander, I happily roam
Up hills and down dales in my wonderful home
I do what I can for less fortunate folk
For I’m rich with no money, how could I be broke?