Here's a true story about an old man who would turn the page of the final chapter of his life He would use pinching money to buy candy and all the children called him Mr. Candyman They would gather around, children all around town You would hear them calling to the window up above "Mr. Candyman, answer us, if you can Have you gone away? Don't you love us anymore?" Old Ira Grey used to live In the attic of an old tenement house 1861, he fought the Civil War Now he's old and crippled, don't get around much anymore He'd take an old soup can with trembling hands Fill it with candy and tie it with twine From the window it came, children called out his name "Mr. Candyman is back here again" Old Ira Grey used to play A tune on his fiddle to pass the time away I'd hear him late at night, playing "The Sailor's Hornpipe" Then he'd laugh at himself and I'd swear old Ira was [?] He'd take an old soup can with trembling hands Fill it with candy and tie it with twine From the window it came, children called out his name "Mr. Candyman, you're back here again" Old Ira Grey passed away And he was laid to rest in Potter's field that day No one seemed to care for the old man with the white hair But the children stared at the window up above They would gather around, kids from all over town You would hear them calling to the window up above "Mr. Candyman, answer us, if you can Have you gone away? Don't you love us anymore? Mr. Candyman, don't you love us anymore? Have you gone away? Don't you love us anymore?"