Last Night This Canalbank Was Home

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.