Last night, this canal bank was home
I see the tossed newspapers blow
And a solitary brown blanket lie
Where not all that long ago
Someone slept... but they were not camping
This was home last night
And, as I approach the bridge
I see him sitting there... on my right...
Hes old and weezened, lights a cigarette
Or at least his best to do so he does try...
And I ever the Christian full of compassion
Keep my distance and hurry by.