Mark Knopfler – Matchstick Man (Guitar)

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So there he was then, Penzance to play

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Christmas Eve in a nowhere band

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Now early morning Christmas Day

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He’s hitching home to Geordieland

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Last night the snow came, just my luck

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And who the hell do you think you are

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Climbing up into that truck

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With your old bag and your guitar

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And you, you would-be vagabond

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No-one invited you, you know

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Matchstick man, up in the dawn

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You’ve got five hundred miles to go

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The driver now must drop off his load

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The snow still laying thick on the ground

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Leaves him on a high crossroads

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Where he can see for miles around

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The sun is shining, sky is blue

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And everything is white and bare

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Not a car comes into view

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There’s nothing moving anywhere

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And you, you would-be vagabond

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No-one invited you, you know

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Matchstick man, you speck upon

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These vast and silent plains of snow