He sits there on the street
Playing his tin whistle,
Sad tunes waft into my heart.
I used to walk by,
But then I paused,
Put some money in his cap,
He said thank you.
Then I stopped and spoke,
We spoke of music,
I too play the tin whistle.
We spoke of playing,
Of the enjoyment it gives.
He said he wished he knew more,
Knew more tunes.
That is when it happened,
The thought came to me,
I had music for tin whistles.
Then came that day
When I stopped with him once more
And gave him the music,
His face became full of smiles,
And almost brought tears,
Tears to both him and me,
As he looked at me
And with the kindest look said
“Thank you boss
Thank you so very much”