Sebastian

He walks up and down the market place as on his flute he blow
The old tunes that he learned in school the music of long ago
On the first saturday of every month for fifty years or more
But never for money or for praise or never for an encore.

He left his mountain village when he had turned nineteen
And in eighty years of living a lot of life he's seen
His journey took him far south to this great southern land
Where he spoke in a language that few could understand.

He now speaks quite good English though some of the accent he retain
That he brought with him years ago from the distant hills of Spain
Just a little bit of the old homeland that with him still remain
The land he left in forty two never to return to again.

Wise words of famous people he has been known to quote
And he recites the poems of Lorca the famous Spanish poet
A wise and aged fellow and quite cultured one might say
And a distinctive character in his own quiet way.

Sebastian is looking frail the years have left him gray
And physically it can be said of him that he has known a better day
At the market place he pipes old tunes from many years ago
And he is one of those marvellous characters I feel privileged to know.