Hope everybody's ringing on their own bell, this fine morning, yeah   Hope everyone's connected to that long distance phone   Old man, he's a mountain, old man, he's an island   Old man, he's a waking says, "I'm going to call, call all my children home"      Hope everybody's dancing to their own drum this fine morning, yeah   The beat of distant Africa or a Polish factory town   Old man, he's calling for his supper, he's calling for his whiskey   Calling for his sons and daughters, calling, calling all his children round      Sharp ears are tuned in to the drones and chanters warming, yeah   Mist blowing round some headland, somewhere in your memory   Everyone is from somewhere, even if you've never been there   So take a minute to remember the part of you   That might be the old man calling me      How many wars you're fighting out there, this winters morning? Yeah   Maybe it's always time for another Christmas song   Old man he's asleep now but he's got appointments to keep now   Dreaming of his sons and his daughters, yeah   Proving, proving that the blood is strong