IRISH IKE

A weather worn face with
rosy red cheeks and not a tooth
That was Irish Ike the homeless man
remembered from my youth
Although he was down and out
he always had cheery smile
Always tipping his cap or waving
as people were passing bye

Sometimes after a bit of grog
he`d start to sing, an Irish ditty 
A crowd would gather as he sang
of the emerald isle, and Dublin his city
With his cap on the ground and all
filling it up with money
He would start to dance a jig
teetering on his toes, so funny 

I think everyone had time for him
he was so harmless and pleasant 
I often thought of him at night time
when the weather was cold or inclement
Poor old Ike i`d think is he cold
and where does he lay his head
When i`m here all cozy and warm
tucked up in my bed

But a survivor was Ike and he lived
many years, just getting by
Out on the streets or in the fields sleeping
and his only blanket, was the sky
I heard tell when he passed  on
he was  eighty years or more
And his funeral was huge,as people showed
their respect to the man, from Ireland`s shore.