The Ballad of the Beggar
A lonely coin lives in my cup;
Rags lie upon my head.
No food nor drink have I to sup,
And stones make up my bed.
You meant not to stroll on this street,
But now you're here, indeed.
You quickly move your booted-feet,
And ignore those who plead.
My voice pines like a dieing flute,
But you hear not my call.
I see all of the destitute,
But you see none at all.
Now hark! And hear the orphan cry!
Hear how the widow weeps!
Do not ignore the poor who die
Alone within their sleep!
I do not mean to make a fuss,
But shackles bow your head!
For Scrooge dwells within all of us,
And all of us are dead.
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Wrote this for the poetry contest. The theme was Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol".
