There's a tinker man, mends a pot or pan
through the town his cry he'll send
but nobody passes my way calling
any broken hearts to mend.
Chairs he'll mend for you
old umbrellas too
if a few odd pence you'll spend
but nobody ever thinks of calling
any broken hearts to mend.
When the cry of sweet scented lavender
comes to haunt me so
I recall the scent of the lavender
when we met long ago.
Listening to those cries I can realize
that my heartache will not end
till someone I love comes my way calling
any broken hearts to mend.