The sickly old man

Written by: Silent Poet Sarah

There once was a man who lay sick in bed
He could not get up to reach his wooden-leg
He had no maid or family to bid it
So lived a lonely life he did
His wife had died of slavery
His heart did break in a thousand ways
The reason he had no leg is a mystery..

The old man died sadly 
Myself did weep a bit
For a sickly man should not die alone

His only friend was me 
a little mouse with a family of three
When he pleaded with me to fetch his leg
I could not manage being so small
He said ' it didn't matter anyway, 
he was sickly and only had a few hours to live'

It was true that he did
but myself did pray for his soul
He was the kindest old man
with his big heart of gold