J
Jerry
Guest
This was the first "serious" poem that I wrote
one or two people had asked to write something serious but until now I hadn't been able to think of a suitable subject
This came about when I foolishly ventured into New Street today and a horde of aggressive beggars and "Big Issue" sellers descended on me.
It got me thinking about the passive beggars who had all disappeared from the area
It’s spring and the world is renewing, flowers bloom, we can hear the birds sing
But for me now there’s something missing since they knocked down the old tired Bull Ring
There was a knight of the road, a tramp if you will, who showed up each spring like the flowers
He played the mouth organ without any skill, he’d stand there and play it for hours
He was tall and I’d guess in his youth he was strong but rough living had taken it’s toll
But he showed up each spring and played his mouth organ for the shoppers as past him they’d stroll
He’d play through the spring and the summer sunshine and folks would throw coins and he’d nod
I suppose that he’d spend them on cider or wine, don’t judge “there but for the grace of god”
With the onset of winter he’d fade from the scene to shelter I know not where
But next spring he’d return like the birds and the flowers, I looked forward to seeing him there
Well now in our shiny new Bull Ring there’s no place for poor tramps such as he
They’ve been banished, chased out, because they don’t fit the corporate image you see
Well I miss that old tramp, harbinger of spring, unshaven, hair matted and curled
Each year when he showed up in the old tired Bull Ring I knew things were well with the world
He was here before them, never did any harm, played his mouth organ, scrounged a few bob
What did he do to deserve this eviction?, didn’t threaten, didn’t steal, didn’t rob
Well now I don’t know if he’s alive or he’s dead, he doesn’t show up in the spring
But though I can’t see him he’s still in my head, and folks now this is the thing
IT TROUBLES ME
one or two people had asked to write something serious but until now I hadn't been able to think of a suitable subject
This came about when I foolishly ventured into New Street today and a horde of aggressive beggars and "Big Issue" sellers descended on me.
It got me thinking about the passive beggars who had all disappeared from the area
It’s spring and the world is renewing, flowers bloom, we can hear the birds sing
But for me now there’s something missing since they knocked down the old tired Bull Ring
There was a knight of the road, a tramp if you will, who showed up each spring like the flowers
He played the mouth organ without any skill, he’d stand there and play it for hours
He was tall and I’d guess in his youth he was strong but rough living had taken it’s toll
But he showed up each spring and played his mouth organ for the shoppers as past him they’d stroll
He’d play through the spring and the summer sunshine and folks would throw coins and he’d nod
I suppose that he’d spend them on cider or wine, don’t judge “there but for the grace of god”
With the onset of winter he’d fade from the scene to shelter I know not where
But next spring he’d return like the birds and the flowers, I looked forward to seeing him there
Well now in our shiny new Bull Ring there’s no place for poor tramps such as he
They’ve been banished, chased out, because they don’t fit the corporate image you see
Well I miss that old tramp, harbinger of spring, unshaven, hair matted and curled
Each year when he showed up in the old tired Bull Ring I knew things were well with the world
He was here before them, never did any harm, played his mouth organ, scrounged a few bob
What did he do to deserve this eviction?, didn’t threaten, didn’t steal, didn’t rob
Well now I don’t know if he’s alive or he’s dead, he doesn’t show up in the spring
But though I can’t see him he’s still in my head, and folks now this is the thing
IT TROUBLES ME
That is so sad Jerry, we have our characters here too and over the years a few have died. We know this 'cause these people are part of our 'CITY' and when they no longer appear someone always finds out why. There always seems to be a write up about them in our local paper, telling in the most part about the life of the person and some have had very interesting pasts too. 
