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Requested by: Aussie_pirate1 on 4/26/2009
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Lyrics
On the edge of the mangrove, down by Casey’s hole
There lives the Metho Man
’Neath rusting wrought iron, a fire’s burning low
There lives the Metho Man
Come my beauty and dance
They’re playing the Varsovienna
Come my beauty and drink
Drink to the memory of a younger man’s dreams
At night you can hear them float by on the wind
The songs of the Metho Man
His voice at times booming, sometimes high and thin
The songs of the Metho Man
My Grandfather knew him, from his time on the rails
Says he was real quiet, always kept to himself
On the edge of the mangrove, down by Casey's Hole
There died the Metho Man
And they say he just fell asleep in the flames
There died the Metho Man
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