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By Andrew Simpson

It was the Sun's last light
That Caught a glittering eye
To see the farthest distance
With all that I can see
My hopes built the ground up
and saw to his name
A man in crimson fabric
Who holds a stature's claim

He sat at the Old Inn Table
His boots clattered round
The keeper kept no words
No man dare a sound
He lit up a pipe in there
The smoke was thick and black
Leather Gloves that helped him
And slowly escaped the back

No man could see with eyes
All that's left was smoke
Settling for the fire
The Man raised a hoax
He turned round to the Barkeep
And stared with rounded eyes
He was begging for some food
It was something you could see

So The Bartender pleaded
and gave him his bread
And a water to wash with
And then was off to bed
The stranger had no feeling
But he didn't bore
So no man payed more heed
Until they heard him snore

The dawn had come too early
Everyman asleep
And as the Rooster Crowed
It seemed all men did weep
The stranger came down happy
With no sleep to spare
so they asked him politely
To take a nap out there

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