I moved to the down part of my town

And there I found

A man who would stand outside my door

He had no home and had qualities no mother would adore

He asked for what I had and no more

I filled his torn gloves with that which we call ignore

And went on my way

Yet in that spot he would stay.

 

One day, when I was in a mode that was far from glad

In fact it was positively mad,

I told him to go get a job

I did not notice that his quiet sob

For I was determined to give him nothing more

Than that which we call ignore.

 

The other day,

I saw in front of him

Written quite dim a sign

Asking to spare a dime for some liquor

I did not notice his cough was getting sicker

For like you I thought him a boar

And would only give me that which we call ignore

 

Yesterday, when these troubles were so far away

I looked upon him with a loathing undisguised.

He was far from bathed and not remotely sterilized

I knew that if I threw a coin his way

It would go to satisfy his loin or buy a drug

Yet as sad it is all he wanted to be his

Was a hug

 

Today, when I wish I was you in a way

I looked for this man who would stand

In front of my door.

I found no trace of him in my land

But he went to a place where he could rest

And feast with the best

For during the night he grabbed a cold

That would not give up its hold

And he became a story someone once told

Me, a friend of his who passed by me

This time I did notice the cry in her eye

I swore only to give him that which we call ignore

But now I wish I had given him just a little more.