Friday, 13 June 2014

The Beard

He grew the beard for charity
He felt sorry for his face
At his age singing on the street
It might create an earthy base

No sounds of doleful melodies
He chose a cheerful tack
A smiley song to walk along
Pass by and not look back

The odd coin he collected
although slow in turning up
Most grateful to the giving hand
Who felt a need to fill his cup

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