The True Battler

His name the writers of Human history will never recall
For such they would see his achievements as too small
Like everyone else in his side of the town
He never will stand on the hill of renown.

His best days in life to the forever gone
But the battler from the poor suburb in life keeps battling on
Out looking for work in his fifty third year
Of his sort of life story one often does hear.

Outside of the poor suburb he's never been
And the son he has fathered for years he has not seen
He has had a few lovers but never a wife
And the women they come to and they go from his life.

He is a tough fellow one who has lived it tough
As one who has been homeless and who has slept rough
True battlers like him not to be found everywhere
His great lust for life keeps him hanging in there.

His dream in life is to live long as he can
And die in his sleep as a very old man
The true battler from the poor side of the town
Yet to be counted out though he has often been down.