A Pauper's Grave

I once knew a man of the sweetest voice, He sang when the day grew dark. He would sing sad tunes of a person’s choice, And sing them like a soulful lark. I once knew a man full of heartbreaking tunes, He sang when the night grew light. He would sing of times gone many moons, Of sorrowed love and plight. I once knew a man whose lips pressed grief, He would sing in the midday heat. He would sing of ships that struck on a reef, And of lovers who could never meet. I once knew a man so heavy with song, He lies in a pauper’s grave. Though his tunes, for sure, did nobody wrong, He succumbed to an unmusical knave. But if you will open your window at night, When the warm wind wafts its breath. You will hear him singing of a singer’s fright At a sudden untimely death.