Poor Homeless Dan

Sitting drinking wine in the park him I'll never more see
Though he'll live 'til I die in my memory
He now rests in peace all is quiet where he lay
There he will not feel the cold on a cold night or day
Found dead on the park bench his body stiff and cold
The story of his life will never be told
His sole comfort in life was the cheapest of wine
He was not very old he had turned sixty nine
Can't even say he had children or a wife
Poor homeless Dan he did have a hard life
One I often talked to he was a nice man
I only have very good memories of Dan
Without a grave stone to tell of where he lay
In the bosom of Nature his remains in decay.