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Men driven to the streets, Huddle in droves, Showing sings to those they meet, "Will work for clothes." "Work for money or for food" "...or for shlter from the rain." To them don't be rude! They are men who tried in vain, Women and children with them. Crying, sobbing, tring useless, Babbies cluthcing to the hem Of a mother's dress. Fill their cups with coins, A hand or a pocket full, Or a place to warm lodging, A place of rhyme and rule. Bring them out of rain, Give them blankets for snow, Carelessness is the bane, But love will make love grow! |
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