THE TRAMP

Illustration by Joan Walsh Anglund

I was once a wealthy man,

Before my unfortunate obsession began

With betting on the dogs and horses.

So now I've had to leave the forces.

I was a Major, highly respected,

Until the Colonel my activities inspected.

Then I was discreetly shown the door

For becoming an embarrassment to the Corps.

So now I live in a cardboard box

With my sole companion, an urban fox.

But it isn't at all too bad a life.

At least I've escaped my nagging wife!

And this shabby old box you think you see

Is actually a stately home to me.

It's decorated with furnishings rich,

Crafted from things I found in the ditch.

Now here on the streets of London I'm free

From everyone making demands of me.

I can come and go whenever I please

And laze in summer under leafy trees.

Those are the days I love the best,

With empty spirit bottle hugged to my chest.

Surely I must be in paradise,

Apart from being eaten alive by lice!

I think I'm being prompted to take a bath,

So down to the Thames I follow a path.

I bet you don't have a bath this size.

In comparison yours is the booby prize.

As long as I earn a crust now and then
By busking and begging beneath Big Ben
I'll never starve, in fact I'll thrive
For I need very little to keep me alive.

'But don't you need hot food in winter?' you ask.
Well, haven't you ever heard of a flask?
The soup kitchens are open all day
And they always allow us to take some away.

'Aren't you cold though as if in a fridge?'
Not when I shelter beneath the bridge.
And even if frostbite prompts me to die,
There's no need to feel sorry for me, nor cry.

For I will have lived my ideal life,
Free from all the stresses and strife
Of pandering to a society
That never really was for me.