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"Tin Man" a remembrance of Paros by Paul Alan Bennett

Paul Alan Bennett is a nationally recognized, award-winning American artist who spent six years living the ex-pat life in the Seventies, painting on Paros, and later studying in Athens. He now lives in Sisters, Oregon, U.S.A. where he maintains a studio.

www.paulbennett-art.com

Paul's says: "Though its been thirty-six years since my return from Greece, those six years I lived there still have a big affect on my life... Recently, I've taken up playing the ukulele and have written several songs relating to those times. I just wrote one about the "Tin Man" on Paros. Remember him? (in Paroikia)... It's in 3/4, waltz time, so I think you'll feel the music as you read the words."

 

The Tin Man

by Paul Alan Bennett

In the country of Greece on the island of Paros

lived a man who made objects of tin in his shop.
 He’d sit at his workbench with clippers and hammer

when customers peered in his windows they’d stop,
 And admire the shapes of his watering cans

as well as his lanterns with patterns punched in,
That glowed when a candle was placed down inside of them,

casting their shadows cut out of the tin.
Each Friday at 5:00 he would close down his shop,

he’d shower, then put on his white shirt, black pants.
Then off to the square where the music was playing

he’d meet with his friends and all would then dance.
And the tin man would sail round the dance floor,

a smile on his lips and his head held so high.
 His arms swinging wide with his masterful hands,

so gracefully spinning you’d think he could fly

Nobody could dance like the tin man
With his black cap and elegant mustache so trim
He so gracefully glided across the dance floor
Your eyes couldn’t stop watching him


Come morning he go back to work in his shop,

making toys for the girls and the boys in the town.  
He loved to make doves with their moveable wings

that would flap with a twist of a key turning round.
And holiday ornaments, bright shapes of stars

with decorative motifs carved into the tin
Some hung from the hooks that he’d placed in the ceiling

while others were stacked near the door in a bin.
The last time I saw him I came to his shop

in search of a lantern to light up the night
And he smiled as he carefully wrapped up my purchase

his eyes meeting mine such a beautiful sight.
Though years have now passed and the tin man is gone,

his grandchildren still do the work that he did
And the favorite toy that they all love to make

is the wind-up man dancing who’s made out of tin.

Nobody could dance like the tin man
With his black cap and elegant mustache so trim
He so gracefully glided across the dance floor
Your eyes couldn’t stop watching him.

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