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Knight
of the road
My beard is long like a blackbirds nest
Hanging rough upon my bony chest
My body Trembles from the cold
I am neither young nor old
On this cold and frosty morn
Awakening slowly, and curse the dawn
Fingers through my hair and then
I venture out there from my den
Eating crumbs from my bag of bits
Boil my water for a mess of grits
Purloined from a strangers hand
Or taken from the farmers land
Birdsong fills the fresh morns air
Scuffles in the hedgerow there
Gives comfort that nature nearby
And a fine day promised by the sky
Gathering about my wits and bits
Through the shrubbery I trudge
Along the road to nowhere again
The good Lord, protects me from the rain
I stretch and reach up to the tree
And help myself to an apple or three
I sit and munch upon a stile
No one to bother the likes of I
Setting off to god knows where
With my stick and beard and lazy eye
This makes me look fearsome
Makes they terrible afeared
Sometimes I dawdle, stop and muse
Passing spitters shout abuse
Mothers hug their children closer
For fear of the vagabonds carousel
Down and out useless drifter
Beachcomber, beggar, rubbish sifter
Treated sometimes to ale and pie
A poor traveller who shall pilgrimise
A knight is I without a charger
A knight of the road without a steed
Not without chivalry, a highwayman
Equal to my fellow man indeed
So bless you all that pass me by
Specially bless all that give to I
Damn the middle class majority
Curses on their local authority.
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