The Old Man In the Park
He dressed up his best old shirt
As the sun was just showing her face
Another walk for his constitution
Amongst the human race
The park was beginning to come alive
With shouts from the softball field
As he reached inside his faded shirt pocket
And retrieved a half smoked Chesterfield
Ah, the music of the songbirds that sang
And the smell of someone’s apple pie
And the soaring fowl overhead in the air
As they glided through the cloudless sky
He loved this place on Sunday mornings
When players came from all over to play
And once he was among these ranks
But that’s another story for another day
Some think of him as a homeless case
And some even says he’s no good at all
But he remembers and smiles with glee
Of the time he stood straight and tall
He traveled across that big old pond
But a snipers bullet cut him down in Nam
Although he lived, he forgets sometimes
He’s no longer attached to Uncle Sam
Still, he walks this same old walk
And sits on that park bench for a while
He then goes back to yesteryears
And stays there for awhile
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