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The tramp by the gateway

BluesMatters 2019



By the gateway of this aged estate

There he would stand from morn’ till late

The aging tramp in his worn-out rags

With his wabbly stick and his creased paper-bags


There he would bow to the passers-by

With a friendly grin and a wink in the eye

And wave to all with his shaky hand

Scattered coins by his feet in the sand


Little rascals would make fun of him

Pulling faces but the tramp wasn’t grim

The kids were giggling and were noisy too

He’d take a wee sip from his strange brew


Time passed his rags were increasingly torn

Holes in his shoes showed the years they were worn

His condition had now heavily declined

One eye saw barely the other was blind


So came the day in the falling snow

First time ever the tramp didn’t show

He’d said his last words and was gone for good

There now stands a rose bush where he once stood


So came the day in the falling snow

First time ever the tramp didn’t show

He’d said his last words and was gone for good

There now stands a rose bush where he once stood