The old Hobo sat and warmed his back and feet-
By the heat of a pot bellyed stove.
Folding the pocketless trousers he got-
while listening to an old friends woes.
His shoes were used and the soles had holes-
Taken from a nearby gargage bin.
But early one day he kindly gave them away-
to a much less fortunate friend.
His hair was white uncombed and stood upgright-
but went flat under his smoke stack hat.
Then he'd giggle and grin from a stubbled chin-
because he liked it just like that..
Yes he liked it just like that.
He drank cheap wine
alone most of the time.
Eating pork & beans from a tin can.
With contrite care he'd always motion a prayer
With his fingerless gloved hands.
He spoke but four words
I ever heard
From a heart as big as his vest
And just before he passed away
On my television he did say
Good night ,& God Bless