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ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL AND THE TRAMP Thousands, perhaps millions of wily, desperate tramps have always been, But this one far away across the seas was an unusual scene, Lying on a slab of stone, He had no existing home, Thin, dirty and hungry, present in a place so pristine! There are so many around and everywhere about, But this tramp, above all others, no doubt stood out, We saw him on holiday, Whist on a trip to the UK, T’was a man, couldn't’ tell alive or dead, but stout! Where did we see this aging, neglected human being At St. Paul’s Cathedral, in the foyer as you walk in, Could see that he meant no harm For inquisitive tourists, worked like a charm, I felt awed by the spiritual presence of God, ever seeing. Sunday, had gone to early mass, chilly put on our shawls Humbled with its historic architecture and solid walls, Princess Dianne married Prince Charles here, She had no clue her funeral was near, Forgetting everything, took part in mass in total enthral! Heard angelic unbroken voices of pre-teen boys choir Our family was spiritually enveloped, never been here prior, We took our seats, no other noise, Service ended with hymns from the boys All dressed in rich red robes and outfits, ecclesiastical attire! People permitted to walk around the cathedral, we saw tombs, Royalty buried in this remarkable place, perhaps died with gloom, History took place inside St. Paul's, With its secret passages and halls, And many controversial theological disputes solved in back rooms! Remembered the tramp, was he OK, was he breathing, Someone nudged him he didn’t move, another started her healing, Were concerned, thought it should be reported, He was dirty as soot, his hair knotted, The tramp, nonchalantly sat up, stretched and disappeared, hymns singing! Packets of food and milk were tucked in a corner, And two blankets and a duvet, and an old pullover, People from around and all the priests, Saw he had essentials, no whisky treats, The tramp was happy in his sanctuary like little Jack Horner.
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